Lover's Quarrel
by xXmarionetteXx
Summary: REOPENED-Twenty-two year old Rosalie Hale never thought that she would fall in love with a married man. Much less end up in an extramarital affair with one. But even after he leaves her to return to his wife, Rose knows she can never forget him and that they will be bonded forever. That bond being the loss of her innocence and a little bundle that she never expected. Read & Review!
1. Why Don't You Love Me?

**Lover's Quarrel**

**Chapter One: "Why Don't You Love Me?"**

He had told his precious _Vivian_ that he had had to work today. But instead of going to the office, he came here. I had met him at the door as I always did, stepping back as he followed me in, elbowing the door shut with such a force that the lace curtain caught in the weather stripping, his ravenous eyes on my face. My body. When we made it up the stairs to my bedroom, all the window shades were already down and the curtains drawn, I tried to kiss him but he instead went straight to work replacing a hickie that had only barely finished fading from my collar bone. Abandoning all grace and reserve, he clawed at my clothing and left it where it fell. His impatience was a lightning bolt carrying us from one forbidden pleasure to the next—a puddle of clothing on the bedroom floor; untrammeled seeking; an almost manic compulsion to find, touch, taste everywhere; his mouth upon my breasts, belly, and mons; mine upon him; my back pressed against the wall; his arm wrapped tightly around my waist as he brought me down onto the bed on my knees facing away from him as he entered me roughly.

It was my least favorite position, and we had tried so many. I felt like my facing away from him demeaned the intimacy of making love. Luckily, however, he didn't ride out the whole thing in doggie style; so I knew he was not frustrated or angry with me. He turned me over and climbed on top of me and I took him in my hand, making him groan with his eyes closed, and guided him inside of me.

I moaned loudly, running my hands greedily over his chest, wanting all of him, every single inch of him, all to myself. I wanted him to belong to me and to no one else.

His brown curls were stuck to the perspiration on his forehead; his hands perched on either side of my head as he drilled into me harder and faster.

"Oh… oh god, Emmett… I… I'm com—oh my _god_!" I moaned loudly, feeling all nine and a half inches of him inside me as I grew closer and closer to ecstasy.

"Ah, fuck, Rose…" he groaned as I lifted my hips against his and threw my head back into the pillow. My hands released the cars of the brass headboard and knotted themselves into his hair, writhing in pleasure.

"God, I love you…!" he rasped. Suddenly every good feeling and pleasure within me snubbed out, like a lit candle, bringing back the memories of the first time he had said that to me.

On a night very much like this one, back in the early days of our affair, he told me he loved me. He was so close to his orgasm that I don't think he realized he had said it aloud. But I believed him. Just like the foolish girl that I was. Someone else cared about me, and I moaned with pleasure and glee. Finally, I believed, my love was requited. Suddenly it didn't matter that he was almost six years older than me. All that mattered was that he loved me.

I had been so in love with him since I had first met him at that stupid party when I was seventeen, just trying out my brand new fake ID, and I ended up in bed with a married man.

But of course I was just so relieved to have somebody love me, like a lover, I would have believed it if I had only heard it from a dream. I was nineteen now and in the two years since we had become lovers, I had hoped with all my heart that some day he might return my feelings.

So, foolishly, smiling like an idiot to myself, I had said it back; over and over again. Then, at the end of the day as he was heading to the door, I met him at the foot of the stairs and grabbed his arm and when he spun around to face me I threw my arms around him and kissed him for all he was worth, never wanting to let go.

"Oh, Emmett…" I'd said. "I love you too, Sweetheart. So, so much." And I had gone in for another kiss… it had never occurred to me that to do so would be one of the most foolish things I had ever done.

We never kissed on the lips. Not even in bed. It was a specific rule of his, one of the conditions he had made when we began the affair. _It's just too personal_, he had explained. But I had figured then, since he loved me back anyway, that it would be okay to now…_wrong_.

He unwound my arms from his neck and shook his head. "Rosalie, what are you talking about?" he had asked me, bewildered by my sudden outburst of emotion and my nonsensical talk of love.

"I… I love you too, Emmett." I said softly, tilting my head slightly and looking up at him.

"Um… too?" he cocked an eyebrow. That time, I felt the sting of rejection accumulating in my stomach and rising up through my chest.

"You…" I stared up at him for a good ten seconds. "You said you… that you loved me… only a little while ago. You told me, "Rose, I love y—"

He surprised me by laughing. "Oh, Rosalie. Honey. We've had a lot of fun. And I love doing this with you," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder as if he were being nice. "But come on, Rosy. You're a little young to really know what love is. But I am flattered." I put my hands over my ears and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. I didn't want to hear this.

"I am nineteen—" I began, but he cut me off, asking me how old he was and my voice went up a couple of octaves.

"Well… twenty-five, but—"

"Exactly." He said, moving a strand of my hair away from my face and kissing my forehead. Something heavy and unpleasant was growing inside my chest, digging and clawing at my heart. It was a horrible, sort of ripping, tearing sensation in my heart.

"So," I had to get this straight. "You don't love me… but you love what I can do to you?" I asked, my arms limp at my sides, eyes down, not focusing on anything in particular.

He patted my arm again, I felt so foolish; like a child. "Exactly," he said. I don't think he meant to mock me, but it felt like he was laughing at me. "Well, now that that's settled… see ya around, kid." He kissed my forehead one more time before turning around and heading out the front door, closing it behind him with a loud click.

I had never been so humiliated in my life, I felt so idiotic… I just stood there for a long time. It felt like hours before I finally moved to go back upstairs to my room, suddenly so lonely. All of the previous emotion gone and leaving behind this empty shell. I sniffed and went to my bed to strip the sheets for the wash. The slightly discolored fabric denoted the number of encounters we had had like this one. I sniffed again and wiped my eyes on the back of my hand and took the sheets downstairs, taking the feelings of emptiness with me.

Now, three years later, I was twenty-two and Emmett was twenty-eight. All of a sudden, I started crying. Tears pouring down my face. I tried to push him off of me but he was too big. I said softly "Stop it, get off…" my voice thickly coated with moisture as I wept.

"Emmett, _please_ get off of me…" I said again, but he didn't stop. He probably hadn't even heard me. He was so close to finishing but I couldn't go on for another minute.

His visits had been much shorter and less frequent than ever before. Sometimes, I would go for weeks without hearing from him and once he had come back after five months to tell me that Vivian had had another baby. _Another_ baby? The news had shattered me. I hadn't even known he'd had one child. I hadn't even known he'd married her. And that baby was now eighteen months old and I'm sure he looked just like his daddy.

But Emmett still did not stop, if anything, he only got faster, holding me tighter, _hurting_ me. "Emmett, stop it! Emmett, _please_… you're hurting me!" I cried. "Get _off_!" Finally, I managed to push him off of me and I grabbed the blanket to cover myself, the tears falling freely now.

At first, the anger in his face frightened me, but once he saw that I was crying he groaned in frustration and put his hands on his knees. "Ah, come on Rose… _again_?" he said, exasperated. But I couldn't even look at him anymore. He never told me he loved me unless he was within grasping reach of his orgasm, and I had had enough. I got up, wrapping the blanket around my frail, much thinner body, and I looked at him.

"Just stop it!" I screamed.

I had never yelled at him before. I was always too afraid that he would leave me and never come back, and I knew that I couldn't live without him.

"Why can't you ever say that to me when you're not fucking me?" I cried. "I know it doesn't mean the same to you as it does to me, but I. Love. You!" I quickly wiped the tears against the corner of the blanket I had wrapped around myself. "I have been your whore for four and a half years now and I'm not even allowed to kiss you! Or even wave at you if I pass you on the street!" I could feel my face flushing but for once I didn't care how ridiculous it made me look.

Emmett just stared at me, never saying a word. I suppose waiting to hear me out before he tried to calm me down. His expression was still startled. So I went on. "I have loved you since that first night I met you, Emmett! _I_ wanted to be the woman you woke up to every morning! _I_ wanted to be the one you came home to every night after work! _I_ wanted to be able to hold you and _kiss_ you, even in public, and not have anything to be ashamed of! I am _sick_ and _tired_ of lying to everybody! Lying _for_ you! I hate having to use the goddamn _pill_ every time we make love! I want to be able to have your baby and not be afraid of what people might think! I wanted to give you your children! I—I…" But I couldn't go on anymore; my voice failed me.

I broke down and sobbed then and I could no longer keep my eyes on him. But his face betrayed his feelings of horror. He was horrified' he started into my eyes as though I were someone else's child throwing a tantrum in the middle of the grocery store and no one was listening. Finally though, I heard him walk over towards the window and when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"What do you want from me, Rosalie?"

I glared at him and when I spoke, my voice was icy. "I want you to choose, Emmett. Right now. It's me," I laid my hand on my chest. "Or her." My hand fell to my side then as I waited for him to decide. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I suppose, for some reason I almost expected him to choose me. Even though it was crazy and completely impossible, somehow I knew that deep down he really did love me and he always would. But…

He sighed heavily and finally, after ages, spoke. "I'm sorry Rose…" was all he could say for a while. Then he looked at me again and this time, he didn't look saddened by his answer at all. Not in the least. "I choose Vivian."

I took in a sharp breath, my eyes wide. I knew it was stupid to expect any different from him, but the pain in my heart was overpowering. He had finally done it. He had finally completely broken my heart. And now there was nothing left of it but a dry, hollow husk.

"Are… are you… breaking up with me?" I whispered weakly, staring at him in disbelief. To my horror, he shrugged; almost casually. "I don't see it that we were ever in the sort of relationship where "breaking up" would at all apply to this separation." he said, his voice so casual, it stung even harder. He wouldn't look at me anymore, his eyes on the sheets—all wrinkled and faded, with lots of discoloration spots. "But in some ways…" he added. "I suppose I am." My mouth hung ajar, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I finally managed to tear my eyes away from him and bit my lip. I opened the door and didn't look at him. I didn't even have to say a word. He sighed heavily, grabbed his clothes, dressed quickly, and headed for the staircase.

I so wanted to slam the door and throw myself down on the bed where he would never lie with me again. But I tore after him, reaching him at the bottom of the staircase.

"Emmett!" I cried. He turned and I threw my arms around him and found his lips with mine. "Please, just let me have one kiss." I plead quietly, stretching up on my tiptoes to kiss him again. Except unlike before, he wrapped his arms around me and held me so tightly in his strong arms that I thought I would fall too pieces if he ever released me. I rested my hands on his chest and lifted my face as his descended, then his soft, open lips touched mine. Ah, that kiss, that long-awaited kiss, fragile as a new bloom, exquisite in its intentional reserve. He allowed that bloom to open slowly, let the stirring build, and the breathlessness mount until our lips opened wider, our tongues joined.

Our eyelids began closing before our mouths met a second time. In one motion he gathered me close and my arms circled his neck again. The kiss became wide, lush, and flavored with remembrance. Our tongues met and welcomed a new fervor as we clung hard, his hands stroking my back, mine, his shoulders. When at last we drew apart our breathing was labored, our mouths wet.

"Please… don't let go," I whispered.

But he did, almost reluctantly, saying only "Good bye, Rosalie." I bit my lip and nodded, eyes downcast as he opened the door and stepped across the threshold, leaving me there to collapse at the foot of the staircase, knowing he wouldn't be coming back ever again. I thought he said something just before he left, but I couldn't understand what it was and before I could ask him, he closed the door behind him and walked out of my life forever.

**Author's Note: Hello again, everybody! I know it has been a long time since I declared this story discontinued, but I am back now and am starting this story over again. I hope you all are still around to read this, because I have been debating with myself on whether or not to come back for the past year or so now. I hope you enjoy the story a second time around as much as many of you did the first time. READ & REVIEW! Love, Emmy**


	2. My Life is Over

**Chapter 2: "My Life is Over"**

Lying quite still in the center of my queen sized bed with the fan blowing directly above me; I certainly did not feel like a queen. The little white piece of plastic was still clenched tightly in my hand. Two pink lines clearly denoted, and they wouldn't change no matter how hard I slammed the test on the side of the countertop. I watched the fan blowing, rustling the leaves of the plants that lay forgotten on the floor, ceramic pots shattered and dark soil sprinkled across the floor, a pale stain on the wall where the plant had been thrown.

I took another deep, quivering breath, swallowing hard against the acid-burning sensation all the way down my throat and the foul taste left in my mouth. My stomach ached from retching. It had been almost eight weeks since Emmett had left. And though it hurt me beyond my mental capacity to think about it and certainly to even think about _him_… I had to be honest with myself.

It didn't matter how many tests I took, not how many times I thrust it into the counter, threw it across the room, smashed it in the doorframe. No matter how many flowerpots I broke… I had to stop lying to myself. I was twenty-two years old. I was young, I suppose reasonably attractive, I had a college degree and worked part time as a waitress. I had barely been able to set my life together yet. But as far as the American public was concerned, I was a loser. A failure. And I was going to have a baby out of wedlock. My life was over. Or, what was left of it anyway…


	3. Undeniable Characteristics

Chapter 3: Unmistakable Characteristics Seven Years Later

I was standing at the kitchen sink scrubbing my fingers to the bone on some stupid skillet when the phone rang. I looked over my shoulder and sighed, wiping my hands on my apron as I walked into the next room and sat down at the desk before I lifted the receiver to my ear, glancing at my watch. It was 11:20 A.M.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Ms. Hale, I presume?" it sounded like a middle-aged woman on the other line.

"Um, yes," I said as I slipped my earring off. "Yes, this is she." I answered, folding my arms tiredly and holding the phone against my shoulder as I leaned back in my chair. I already had the next three hours of my day planned out; starting with a hot shower and nice long nap.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. This is Mrs. Gavin, the director here at Sparhawk Lower School." _Uh oh_, I thought. _I've worked so hard to get her into this private school and I'm already getting phone calls from the director!_

"Um, yes. Of course; is there a problem?"

"Oh, no! Not at all, ma'am. Our machines are down so we're calling the parents of the students at the Lower school just to let everybody know that the PTA meeting that had been scheduled for tonight has been moved to next Thursday in the gymnasium at six o'clock." I exhaled, relaxed.

"Well, thank you so much. I'll put it on the calendar," I lied. I had no intention of attending the PTA meeting for this month because I couldn't be nominated for chairman again if I didn't attend the meeting.

"Alright, you have a wonderful day now." She said, hanging up before I could answer.

With a heavy sigh, I headed back into the kitchen, stopping to glance at my reflection in the mirror on the way there.

_Oh, Rosalie… Just look at yourself,_ I thought, studying the woman looking back at me. I hardly recognized her. Her skin was pale; her hair was a mess; her lips were chapped; she hadn't worn makeup in God knows how long… I sighed heavily again, licking my lips and heading back over to the sink.

I finished the dishes just before the clock struck twelve and I headed directly upstairs to my bedroom, grabbed my robe and a towel, and took my shower. Afterwards, I decided I might as well fix my hair and makeup. Since I hadn't done so in a while.

I was just applying mascara, my hair still in rollers, when I heard the doorbell. Startled, I missed my eyelash and I hissed in pain, grabbing a tissue and pressing it to my eye, swearing under my breath as I shut off the vanity light and shuffled down the stairs. I was expecting it just to be the mailman just ringing to deliver the new knife set I had ordered last week. I had a little trouble with the lock, but when I finally yanked the door free and it swung open, I was already talking.

"Jeez, Paul. You scared the hell out of m—" Wondering just how bad I had gotten my eye with the mascara wand; I knew I was hallucinating… I _had _to be. To my own mortification, it wasn't the mailman here to deliver my package. In fact, I could see Paul walking up the front path of my neighbor's house across the street. Worse yet, it wasn't a stranger, either; I knew exactly who it was, I just couldn't believe it.

Curly brown hair, deep blue eyes, chiseled feature, muscular frame… those adorable dimples. No. It wasn't Paul at all… It was "Emmett!" I exclaimed, wide eyed. A part of me wanted to slam the door in his face and retreat to my room and hide until he was gone. Another part of me wanted to slap that handsome face of his and tell him off. Another part of my mind wandered back to the other room in the umbrella rack where I kept a BB gun. But I couldn't move. I just stood there, rooted to the spot like a statue.

I was suddenly very aware of my appearance; my hair was in rollers, my feet bare and my toenail polish still a little damp, my makeup was probably smeared because I'd been holding the tissue to my eye—oh shit! I suddenly stuffed the tissue into my robe pocket and opened my mouth to say something, but he spoke first.

"Hey," he said, the faintest hint of a smile tracing those beautiful lips. Oh, that deep voice so much like velvet; I hadn't even realized how much I'd missed it.

I had dreamt of this very moment hundreds of times over the past several years, I knew just what I had always wanted to say to him. I had it memorized by heart; I had rehearsed it so many times on all the sleepless nights. Yet now that I finally had my chance to say it, here I stood; unable to move; unable to speak.

He just stood there looking at me, and he smiled… the warm smile that I saw over and over again in my head. I stared at him and he stared back at me. I had no idea how he had found me. I had moved from that apartment I had owned back in our—well, back in the day—I had even left the Boston. Hell, I'd left Massachusetts. Now I called Lincoln County, Maine my home.

"Rosalie?" he said gently. His voice was smooth as molasses. He nervously ran a hand through his hair, looking down at his feet, smiling in spite of himself as though he were just as surprised that he had found me, as I was to see him. I noticed the absence of the gold wedding band on his finger anymore and I wondered where it was. I knew that Vivian would have thrown a fit if she'd even heard a rumor of him not wearing it.

Look at me. I couldn't believe I still remembered all this. If the situation hadn't been so serious, I might have chuckled to myself, but I didn't.

"I guess… I should have called," he said bashfully

"Yes, you should have." I said. I hadn't meant for it to come out so icily. Then without giving myself the permission to do so, I was suddenly inviting him in.

"Would you like some coffee?" I offered as I led him into the kitchen.

"Yes, please. If it's not too much trouble." He said; his voice was so damn sweet, it was unnerving. _How dare he just show up on my front porch in the middle of the week? Who does he think he is?_ I thought to myself as I had my back turned to him as I poured him some coffee that I had made this morning. Without thinking about it, I added one teaspoon of honey and a splash of Half & Half—exactly the way he always used to take it. He thanked me, looking rather surprised and pleased that I had remembered how I always used to make it for him. I almost wished I hadn't.

"Um, I'm sorry but I was just getting ready. Do you mind if I run back upstairs right quick? I'll only take a minute." I said.

He nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. "Sure that's fine. I'll wait."

"I'll only be a minute." I repeated before dashing from the room. When I got to my bedroom, I shut the door behind me and leaned back against it and then I started hyperventilating. "Oh my god… Emmett is in my kitchen… _Emmett_ is in my _kitchen_! Oh my god… oh my god… oh my god!" I despaired quietly as I sunk to the floor.

After a little while, I brightened back up and ran to my closet, digging out my most flattering ensembles; a blue cotton button-down dress that came down to my knees with a belted waist, elbow-length sleeves, and a collar? No, too 50's housewife. A black low-cut halter dress that barely reached the ends of my fingers... Good gracious, no. I hadn't worn it since college! After going through just about every garment I owned, I finally decided on an A-line skirt in army green and an ivory peasant top with full, three quarters length sleeves. I would have thrown on some nylons as well, but my nails were still wet so I left my feet and legs bare. Then I pulled the rollers out of my hair, fluffing and lightly spritzing with hairspray before finally heading back downstairs. Even though I had assured him that it would only be one minute, I walked back into the kitchen twenty minutes after running upstairs.

And he wasn't at the table. Suddenly terrified, I headed on through the kitchen and walked into the family room, where I found him looking at the pictures on the TV cabinet. Pictures of me, my parents, when I bought the house, when my father was in the hospital dying last year, the one picture that really mattered the most—thankfully—I had just taken into the other room just this morning to switch it out with a newer photograph, so it was absent. But there was another picture I had almost forgotten about; a framed drawing of a blonde haired blue eyed mother holding the hand of a dark, curly-haired child and some sort of dog sitting next to them in front of a small house in the background with smoke coming out the chimney. I swallowed hard when Emmett lifted that picture to get a closer look at it. But he looked up when I cleared my throat and he quickly, but gently put the picture frame down.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I—I didn't mean to snoop. I was uh…" he rubbed the back of his head nervously, I guess he was hoping I'd interrupt him. But I didn't. I was curious to hear what kind of excuse he would use.

"Well, honestly, I was looking to see if there were any wedding pictures," he said sheepishly. My face flushed a deep crimson and I looked away. But just as I was about to open my mouth to say—I don't know what I was about to say, luckily I was interrupted when I heard the horn of a school bus and shortly after the sound of running feet coming through the front door.

"Mommy! Mommy! I'm home!" chimed a little girl while she slipped out of her red-sequined ballet flats at the door, came flying through the kitchen and straight over towards me, flailing a piece of paper in her hands—very likely another masterpiece. "Mommy! Look what I did! Miss Janie says it's very good,"

"Oh my goodness gracious, sweetheart. How beautiful!" I admired my daughter's artwork. I had known since she was two that she was going to be an artist one day, from the moment she put those crayons on the drywall, I still remember my delight and concern; it was something she had inherited from her father—the architect.

"Oh my, that's lovely, sweetheart. What's this here?" I said, pointing out something that I assumed to be a large flower twice the height of the stick figures.

"It's a sunflower!" she clapped her hands excitedly together, jumping up and down, "Because they're my favorites!"

"Well, it's just gorgeous, darling. And you know what I'm gonna do? I'm going to hang it up on the refrigerator so everybody can admire it." I smiled, kissing the dark curls on her pretty little head and heading over to the fridge, looking to see if I could find two extra magnets somewhere.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," she said, looking up at me with those big round eyes.

"Okay, well you go start on your spelling and I'll make you a snack. Would you like apple slices with peanut butter?" I asked.

She nodded, "Yes please." she said.

"Alrighty then, coming right up." I smiled, leaning down so she could kiss my cheek and then she skipped on into the dining room and climbed up in one of the chairs, pulling the contents of her book bag out and displaying them all around her, digging around for a pencil.

I smiled after her, and then turned back to face the stunned expression on Emmett's face. The characteristics were undeniably alike. The child looked exactly like him but with my rosy cheeks and my ivory skin. And I knew then… the cat was out of the bag.

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Yes, I'm still here… I'm gonna try and see if I can't get at least the first six chapters up one every day. They're gonna be the easiest because I only have to revise and rewrite them a little bit. Well anyway, here's chapter three. Enjoy! Read & Review!**


	4. Catherine Hale

**Chapter 4: Catherine Hale**

I bit my lip and cautiously turned to look back at Emmett, waiting for him to boil over with fury and demand to know why I had kept his own child a secret from him. I wondered if he would try to slap me. Not that he had ever really hit me before, but then again I had never done anything to make him all that angry until now. Come to think of it, I wasn't really sure whether or not he was even the hitting type. But he didn't appear to be angry; the slap never came.

Actually, he appeared to be taking it rather well; running his fingers through his hair nervously, he looked… scared. He finally looked back at me but didn't say anything to me. Neither did I. I waited for him to speak first.

"H-how old is she?" he inquired with a rugged voice.

"Six and a half." I said. His eyes darted to my left hand, I assume to verify that there was no wedding band.

"Is… is she…" his voice trailed off, his eyes were wide as saucers and I couldn't be certain, but they almost looked moist. He pressed his hand to his chest to complete his sentence. _Mine._

"Yes." I answered simply after a short pause. But when a thought occurred to me I suddenly picked up enough courage to snap back at him. "But she is mine and you cannot have her." I didn't really think that he would threaten to fight over her, but I just wanted to set the air straight that any discussions regarding custody of our daughter was completely out of the question.

He shook his head. "What? No! I wouldn't try to take her away," he insisted, looking me straight in the eye. I believed him.

"But," he went on. "What… is her name?"

"Catherine." I stated. "Catherine Elizabeth." Then, just to make sure that he didn't think I had honored him, I quickly added. "Hale."

"Catherine?" he repeated. "You mean… like my mother?"

_Damn it._ I thought. I hadn't known his mother's name. He had never told me anything about his family outside of a few minor details of Vivian and the boys. I didn't say anything for a few seconds, but I didn't want him to think I had intentionally meant to give her a name from his family. "No." I told him. "I named her for my father's mother, Cathleen… I was always very close to him, you see, and he died shortly before Catherine was born."

Started at thinking that he might have somehow offended me, he was quick to apologize. "Oh my god, Rose. I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to assume—"

"It's alright," I interrupted. "You didn't tell me anything about your family, so I didn't tell you anything about mine. I wouldn't have expected you to know that he had died, particularly after you left me." I did not want to talk about Daddy. Not to Emmett. Not right now.

"I am sorry about that too," he said sadly, eyes downcast. "I know I didn't treat you the way I should have and that I was less than honorable… there were a lot of things I didn't tell you. And I really am sorry. But I'd like to make it up to you somehow… and for all the things I've missed; with Catherine, too. _God_… If I'd have known you were pregnant, I—"

"Mommy?" the sweet little voice interrupted, taking us both by surprise.

"Yes, Precious?"

"Can I have a juice box, too?" she was so innocent, and looked so much like her father, but I'm sure she didn't notice. I'm certain that she had no idea who this man I was talking to was, other than the person who was keeping her mother from fixing her snack.

"Oh baby doll, I am so sorry. Mommy forgot all about it. Yes, you may have one juice box. Actually, you can go ahead and get one out of the pantry and I'll get your apple," I was saying as I was herding her back into the kitchen. I knew she was looking over her shoulder at Emmett, and I could feel his eyes on both of us as I lead her away from him. And most of the time she was very shy, so she didn't ask me right off.

I became frustrated with myself for not knowing how to handle the situation. How could I have not seen this coming? I should have known that this day would come sooner or later and I should have been more prepared for it. Though, I had always assumed that if it did come then it would have been me finding him, or even Catherine finding him after she got her license and a car and had learned how to use the Internet. I had never told her much about Emmett, but his name was on her birth certificate and a name was easy enough to go on for a teenager looking for the father that never knew she'd been born. But not now, not like this. Catherine was still so young but she was old enough to understand that our family was different from the other kids she went to school with. But suddenly Catherine's gentle tugging on my hand brought me out of my thoughts and back to reality.

"I'm sorry, Baby. What did you say?"

"I said who is that man, Mommy?"

All the color drained from my face and I swallowed hard as I looked down at her, then back at Emmett, who hadn't taken his eyes off of Catherine since she had come back into the room, and I sighed, defeated. Turning Catherine around with my hands on her shoulders, I led her back into the family room to where Emmett stood rooted to the spot. "This, Catherine," I paused to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "is your daddy."

Catherine frowned up at me and said. "But I don't have a daddy," it all but broke my heart to hear my child say that when I had always been so close to my own father.

"Well, you do now." Then I addressed him. "Emmett, this is Catherine."

I didn't know how long he was planning to stay in town, or if he was planning to stay at all. But I had until then to show him what a beautiful, smart, wonderful little girl his daughter was, and I was scared already of when he would leave.

**7:48 pm**

After dinner, I could feel his eyes on me as I stood over the sink, scrubbing the dishes. Catherine then entered the kitchen and sat down in the place adjacent from where Emmett sat. She sat up on her knees and leaned her elbows on the table and stared at him for a moment.

Emmett chuckled and smiled at her. "Hi there Kitten." he winked.

I smiled at his new pet name for her. She had giggled when he first called her "Kitten" during dinner and she had declared that she liked it after giving it a little thought. I turned to face them and saw her staring at him.

"Catherine," I hissed. "What have I told you about staring?"

"To not to." she answered absent mindedly, but not looking away from him.

"_Catherine Elizabeth_…" I said in a warning tone, arching my eyebrow.

She didn't hear me. She looked straight at Emmett and asked him the most horrific sentence I could ever have imagined her to say, causing me to gasp in shock and my face to color with embarrassment.

"Are you gonna marry my momma?" she asked him, her innocent blue eyes wide as saucers with her ever-unpredictable and sometimes downright embarrassing curiosity.

Emmett only laughed, which made me feel half relieved, and also half hurt. "Now, now Kitten…" he chuckled. "Let's take this one step at a time,"

"But do you like my momma?" she asked as I put the last of the dishes away and poured a cup of fresh coffee for Emmett and myself, setting his in front of him before sitting down opposite him.

"_Catherine!_" I stared at her, clearly embarrassed. But she continued her round of questions.

"Do you think my momma's pretty? I think she's _beautiful_!" I choked on my sip of coffee and set the mug down on the table.

"Okay sweetheart. I think it's time for bed."

"But I'm not done talking yet!" she whined as I stood up and picked her up, holding her on my hip.

"We can play '20-Questions' tomorrow." I sighed as I turned towards the staircase in the living room. "Say goodnight to Mr. McCarthy, honey." I told her.

"Goodnight Mr. McCarthy!"

"G'night Kitten." she giggled when he winked at her and I took her upstairs to tuck her in.

When I came back downstairs, I found him standing by the sink, looking out the window into the darkness, his hands in his pockets. He turned to look at me when I came back in and I stopped, meeting his gaze.

We stared into one another's eyes for a good five or ten minutes before he cleared his throat and looked away, as though only just realizing he had been staring.

"Sorry." he chuckled, a slight tremor in his voice.

"I don't mind." I said quietly, never looking away from that beautiful face.

Then, before I could so much as count to three, he closed the short distance between us and took me in his arms. Not in any sort of possessive or greedy way, but a sweet gesture. I was frozen to the spot for a moment, my mind racing back to the night seven years ago when he had held me so tightly and securely at the foot of the stairs. Thinking back to that moment when we had shared such a wonderful, passionate parting kiss, I melted into his warm embrace, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply… that scent… I can remember drinking it in, never able to get enough. It was intoxicating.

He seemed to be doing the same to me, his nose was pressed against my hair and he took in deep breaths.

I wrapped my arms around his middle and without any previous command from my conscious mind, I whispered

"I love you…" My heart sank.


	5. Good Night, My Love

Chapter 5: Good Night, My Love

Emmett stiffened slightly and I winced. _Idiot!_ I thought._ Why did you say that? Now he's going to leave and this time he'll never come back, not even for Catherine. Way to go; blowing your own child's chances at having a relationship with her father…_ But he didn't push me away and leave, or call me naïve and anything. He surprised me by speaking calmly and quietly.

"I had hoped you still would…"

_It was 1:20 A.M. as Emmett and I sat in the claw-foot tub in my old apartment, in nipple-high bubbles, drinking Bud Light, telling bad jokes and singing badly. He took a swig, backhanded his mouth, and said, "Oh! I got one!" Putting his beverage on the floor, he said._

"_Okay, so there's this steel company that hires a new CEO after the old one retires and the new guy tells all the workers that he is going to fire all slackers. So, to show them that he means business, he goes to check on the workers. Then he sees a man leaning against the wall resting. So the new CEO goes up to the man and asks him, "How much money do you make in one week?" Startled, the man answered, "$400, sir." So the CEO says, "Just a minute," goes upstairs and comes back with $1600, hands it to the man and says, "Here's four weeks' pay. Now leave and don't come back." So the man takes the money and leaves. Then, the CEO laughed and asked the rest of the employees, "So, what did that goofball do around here, anyway?" and one worker said, "That was the pizza delivery boy."_

_We both howled with laughter and I exclaimed suddenly, "Oh! This one's one of my favorites," I began. "Three men are standing in line to get into Heaven. It's a slow day and Saint Peter is on his lunch break. So the first man turns to the second and says, 'Well while we're waiting, how'd you die?' The second man answers and says, 'Well, I always had a feeling that my wife was cheating on me but I'd never been able to prove it and she always denied it. So one day, I came home early from work to apologize for suspecting her, with flowers. But she was standing in the kitchen pouring two glasses of champagne, dressed in some lingerie that I'd never seen before. So I threw down the flowers and said, 'Alright, where is he?' so I searched the house, but I didn't find anyone._ _But just when I was about to give up and apologize to her again, I heard a scream from somewhere outside the apartment. So I ran out to the balcony and found a guy hanging onto the railing. So I pushed him off, but he didn't die. So I picked up the refrigerator and threw it at him—"_

"_He picked up the refrigerator—?" Emmett interrupted me._

"_Shut up! Just listen," I shushed him before continuing. "Anyway, he said 'I threw the refrigerator at him, but the strain of lifting it killed me, and that's how I died.' The first man was glaring at the second man, who said. 'What? How did _you_ die?' 'I was_ _over at my grandmother's apartment fixing the light fixture on her balcony when her dog ran out and knocked over my ladder. I was lucky enough to catch myself on the balcony ledge of the next floor down, but then this crazy son of a bitch came out and pushed me down. I was amazed that I didn't die then, but then the jackass threw a refrigerator at me! And that's how I died.' Suddenly, the third man in line bursts out laughing and the first two men ask him how he died when the third man said, 'I was in the refrigerator.'"_

_Emmett laughed so hard he almost spit out a mouthful of beer. "Ha! I've never heard that one," he said as he wiped his mouth again. Then he turned to me and said in a joking voice, "So what's the deal with airline food, huh?" I don't know why it struck me as being so funny but I couldn't help but laugh._

"_Oh, lord… I think we missed our calling," I laughed. Then I fell back weakly, catching the faucet between my shoulder blades. "Ow-woooo!" I howled, still half_ _laughing as I slurred. "That huuurt…!"_

_He grinned. "Come here. I got a place that won't hurt."_

"_No knobs or faucets?" I inquired, setting my mug on the floor again._

"_Well," he said as he settled my small frame between his thighs. "Maybe a couple," I laughed. "But I think you're gonna like 'em, Miss Rosalie," he said as he kissed my temple._

"_Mmmm…" I purred, nestling cozily against his chest. "You're right, I do."_

_After some time I opened my eyes and inquired lazily, "Hey, cowboy?"_

"_Ma'am?" he drawled, teasingly. "You wouldn't want to follow me into the bedroom, would you?"_

"_Well now," he replied in his best sagebrush accent. "A gentleman ought not refuse a lady when she asks so nice and sweet-like. I think we can take care of that little matter with no problem at all."_

_By 2:40 A.M. we lay on the rumpled bed in my room with our tired limbs twined. _

_He sighed and I sighed, both worn out. I would have just as soon fell asleep like that, wrapped in his arms. But he let go of me and rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed for a minute or so before getting up and pulling his clothes on._

"_Do you have to go?" I asked him softy, looking up at him from my spot on the bed, lying on my stomach, arms tucked underneath me, golden hair splayed out across the pillow, the sheet pulled up to my lower waist._

_He pulled on his jeans over his briefs and sighed as he buckled them, still facing away from me. "I shouldn't have stayed this late as it is," he said softly. "At this rate, I won't get home till three, three-thirty. She'll be angry…"_

"_What will you tell her?" I asked him even though I knew exactly what he would say to her. It was what he always told her… but I would have done anything just to make him stay a little while longer._

"_Had to finish the project, I guess. Boss man's been on all our asses telling us to get the designs done and he's moved up the deadline." He finished buttoning his shirt and began tucking it in before sitting back down on the edge of the bed to pull his shoes on. I reached across the space between us and touched his back; just a tender, soothing touch, and he stopped moving for a moment and sighed. "I gotta go, Rose." He said as he stood up and headed for the door. "Good night."_

"_Good night, my love…"_

Suddenly, I shot out of bed and looked around, breathing heavily, covered in a cold sweat. _Oh my god…_ I thought. _It was just a dream…_ I looked over at the clock; it was just a little after midnight. Emmett had left around nine o'clock to go back to his hotel. It had all just been a dream, but of a memory that was real. I lay back down and considered the dream. I had to have been twenty-one then… I was pretty sure that it had been shortly after he had gotten that promotion and we were celebrating. He had brought over a bottle of champagne, but we had each agreed that we preferred beer and had instead downed two entire six packs of Bud Lights before he had left to go home.

I smiled to myself as I recalled all the laughter we had shared that wonderful day. He had gotten that promotion and had gotten off work early to come and celebrate it with me. I don't think he ever did tell Vivian that he had gotten most of that day off. But then I remembered the tears I had shed after he had left… But I shoved the entire memory from my mind and I tried to return to sleep. He was coming back in the tomorrow to see Catherine and discuss with me my rules about letting him be a part of her life, and who knows what else. I had so many questions to ask him; why did Vivian think he had left Boston? What had he told her? Was he "on a business trip" or had he left her? Why he had decided to come back to me after so long, and how in the world he had found me in Maine. Had he missed me? Had he ever become a partner at the architecture firm? Did he still live in that little house in West Roxbury? Had he had any other affairs since he had left me? So many questions running through my mind… I wanted to know everything; everything I had missed.


	6. The Woman I Love

**Chapter 6: The Woman I Love…**

**Emmett's Perspective on Chapter One**

I had not _exactly_ lied to her… I had told her "_Viv, I need to go to work today and I probably wont be back in time for supper…"_ And I had been telling her the truth… At the time…

Actually, I had barely even climbed into the jeep and buckled my seatbelt when my buddy at the office called and told me that he and a couple other guys on the team finished the project early this morning. So technically I wasn't lying to her. And yet, I wasn't proud of myself for what I did to her; hurting her like this. She _was_ my wife, after all. But I couldn't just go back inside and tell her it was a false alarm… She wouldn't believe me. So I headed over to Rose's place on the other side of town.

In all honesty, I wasn't happy about what I was doing to Rosalie either. Sure it had all started out innocently enough, I guess. But after we'd each had several drinks, things quickly spiraled out of control.

It was at some stupid college party back when I was a senior and newly married. I hadn't wanted to marry Vivian yet, I mean sure I planned on doing it in a couple years, you know, after I'd gotten a job in an architect's firm and bought a house, I wasn't ready to be her husband yet… but then she got pregnant, and I had no other choice. Anyway, one of my old buddies I'd known all my life wanted to go; said it was a costume party and the chicks would be easy and the booze was free. So I'd thrown on a cape and some dollar-store fangs and called myself a vampire. I was barely twenty-three years old back then and after several beers and a few hard shots, that little white rabbit was becoming more and more alluring.

It all happened so fast… I mean, one minute I was just letting her flirt with me and, yeah, I gotta admit I was flirting back a little, next minute we're scrambling into a hotel room somewhere near the campus, and then I'm waking up with the worst hangover of my life, holding that beautiful angel with long golden blonde hair close to my side, the only memory I'd had was the tears; she had cried after, but I was too drunk to say anything.

Boy, was I a wreck when I'd learned why she'd started crying; she was seventeen and—until I'd gotten my hands on her—a virgin. I'd thought I was going to prison for sure. All my buddies told me that virgins always cried after sex, but I'd thought they were exaggerating. Vivian didn't cry. They had also told me that virgins bleed, too; sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. Rosalie bled. I'd only noticed it when I was climbing out of that bed in the morning and I'd noticed the rust-colored stains on the sheets. Before Rose, I'd figured that that was also just a myth too. Because Vivian didn't bleed either… that first time with Rose had put a lot of doubt in my mind about everything else my wife had told me.

After that first time, I'd tried to keep my distance from Rosalie. I ignored her phone calls and her texts, her emails—I didn't even remember giving her my phone number and email address. I figured if I just ignored her, then it could be like it had never happened. And after the calls and messages stopped coming, I figured I'd done it and that I could just forget about the whole thing and stop worrying about Vivian finding out.

It's not that I resent my wife, honest. She's just so damn jealous and suspicious. Even before I started fooling around with Rose she was always that way. At first I thought it was almost cute, that she cared enough about me to want me all to herself; but after a little while, it just got really aggravating. Sometimes I thought I ought to just knock some sense into that thick head of hers. Or maybe if she'd just stop nagging at me all the time and give me at least an hour to figure out if she's even the same woman I'd dated back in high school. Sure she looks the part, it's not like she had changed too much in the past six years since we'd graduated high school… well, except that she'd chopped all her hair off by the time she got pregnant the first time, and she's about… oh, maybe fifteen or twenty pounds heavier and she's constantly complaining about the lines in her forehead and the "crows feet" that you can only see if you lean in real close. Sometimes, I swear I don't even know who that woman is anymore.

She's already had two boys, Scott and Tyler. But I swear they are nothing like me. Sometimes I even start to wonder if they're even mine. They've got Vivian's jet black hair, and her cheekbones, but wherever the hell they got their fair, heavily freckled skin is beyond me, and their noses, and attitudes, and their eyes. Vivian's got a light, sort of peach shade in her skin, but doesn't have a freckle anywhere on her body. I've got a sort of a darker olive toned skin and I don't have any freckles either. I have sort of gray green or blue colored eyes, and Vivian's got a sort of dark, almost black, coffee shade. The boys, on the other hand, have got some of the brightest hazel eyes I have ever seen. And every day, it just gets even weirder…

Rosalie on the other hand… well. She is really something else. I mean what can I say? Or where do I begin? She's beautiful, she's smart, she's kind, she's gentle, and she can cook circles around Vivian's slop. And she's _in love_ with me… I hate it when I have to hear her say it and I can't just say it back.

Sometimes I do, without realizing it. Like when we're having sex or even when we're just in a really heated make out session.

There is only one thing keeping me from her. Vivian.

If I could, I'd leave her in a heartbeat. But I can't do that. I can't just up and run out on her and the boys (whether they're my boys or not), because I had made a commitment to them. Sure, I am no Husband of the Year, what with sleeping with Rosalie every time I get a free minute, but I am, well, _obligated_ to take care of them. Vivian didn't ever go to college because she wanted to stay home and marry me so we could start a family. She doesn't have a job because she wanted to stay at home with the boys, and I make enough money to support us without her help.

It certainly pisses me off enough that those little brats look so much like an old buddy of mine, who I haven't spoken to much since the job took him somewhere in Arizona, I think. Vivian was sure upset when he left, more upset than any wife ought to be over that sort of thing.

But I was at Rose's house on what I'd thought was just any other ordinary day, but I guess the joke's on me. Because this particular day would have significant meaning in the future, though it meant nothing to me now. This day, was soon to become the day that my whole world crashed down around me; the day that I would relive night after night and would wake up and kick myself for it every morning, the worst day of my life; because this was the day that I lost my Rose.

Her long hair spread out on the mattress like a sea of gold, I know, corny right? But I have never in my life seen such beautiful hair on a woman, or anywhere for that matter. It fell down in gentle waves that framed her heart shaped face and would catch even the softest glimmer of sunlight. It was just one of the many things about her that made her so beautiful to me. Also her eyes… a soft, pale lilac, bordered with thick, black lashes, but those eyes were currently shut tight as she moaned against my shoulder, urging me to go harder, faster.

"Oh… oh god… Emmett… I… I'm com… oh my god…" she moaned loudly, she was so close to orgasm, I could feel it as her walls began to tighten around me.

"Oh god Rose…" I groaned as she pulled my hair and screamed. "I love you," Shit. I can't believe I just said that again! In a normal state of mind, I'd have kicked myself for being so stupid, but now, I was so close I couldn't stop to scold myself. All I could think about was Rose's body against mine as I thrust as hard and as fast as I possible could, aching to feel my release.

I didn't notice that she had started to cry; I didn't even hear her when she started to beg me to get off until she was able to push me off of her, causing me to almost fall off the bed in surprise. It wasn't until I sat up on the bed and looked at her that I could see that she was upset

At first I had been so surprised that I looked abruptly at her; she was crying again. Oh god… had I hurt her? I'd turned so quickly, I hope she didn't think I was angry… Could she be angry with me? _Had_ I hurt her?

This had happened so many times before… her crying, but she would always just wave it off and make up some excuses for it and start apologizing.

And no matter how much I begged her to, she never told me why she was so upset, and it hurt me—it really did—to think that perhaps it was something I had done to make her so unhappy. That I had caused those tears to fall from those beautiful eyes made me sick to my stomach. But I had no idea how to react to her outbursts and, though I hated myself for it, I couldn't help but start to get a little impatient with her.

"Ah, come on Rose… again?" I went to move toward her, to hold her, but I must have frightened her, because she jumped back until she hit the headboard.

"Just stop it!" she screamed.

I stared at her, startled. She had never screamed at me before. Oh no, if I had hurt her, I don't know what I'd do… I couldn't, no… I _wouldn't_ live without her.

"Why can't you ever say that to me when you're not fucking me? I know it doesn't mean the same to you as it does to me, but I. _Love_. You!" she cried as she attempted wipe her tears away as fast as she could using the corner of the blanket she'd used to wrap around herself.

" I have been your whore for four and a half years now and I'm not even allowed to kiss you! Or even wave at you if I pass you on the street!" Her face was turning red with rage. I didn't know what to say so I just looked at her, unable to speak, what _could_ I say? I opened my mouth to say something to her, but nothing came out… and she broke the silence.

"I have loved you since that first night I met you, Emmett! _I_ wanted to be the woman you woke up to every morning! _I_ wanted to be the one you came home to every night after work! _I_ wanted to be able to hold you and _kiss_ you, even in public, and not have anything to be ashamed of! I am _sick_ and _tired_ of lying to everybody! Lying _for_ you! I hate having to use the goddamn _pill_ every time we make love! I want to be able to have your baby and not be afraid of what people might think! I wanted to give you your children! I—I…"

She suddenly couldn't talk anymore, like her voice had given out. She burst into tears all over again and had almost doubled over, but was trying to keep her eyes on me. I knew I ought to say something to her, something to make her feel better. I wanted to tell her that I _did_ love her, that I want to kiss her every time I see her… and nothing would make me happier than to make her my wife, to hear people call _her_ Mrs. Emmett McCarthy.

I couldn't decide which emotion I felt was stronger… shock; pain; _regret_ maybe… and horror. I guess that would work… I was horrified with myself.

How could I do this to her; to my sweet, lovely Rosalie?

She stared into my eyes and I stared right back, I felt worse than I'd ever felt in my life because I had hurt this beautiful angel before me. I wanted to hide my face in shame and leave her in peace… I wanted to leave now and never come back, so that I could never hurt her again… but I don't think I had the courage or the strength to walk out on her now. I couldn't walk out on the woman I love…

"What do you want from me Rosalie?" my voice cracked, did she want me to leave? Did she want me to try harder? I would do anything for her, but I couldn't leave her unless she asked me to. I couldn't live without her. I just couldn't…

"I want you to choose…" she said, her demand stabbed at my heart. "Me?" she pressed her hand to her chest over her heart. "Or her." her tone was final as she lowered her hand and waited for my decision.

_Oh, Rosalie... Of course I choose you! Oh my sweetheart, I love you so much, and I am so sorry. For everything! I just want to love you and to make you happy forever! I love you. Oh my darling, I love you so much…_ I so badly longed to say these words to her; I couldn't bear to betray her one more time, to envelope myself inside of these feelings that my Rose gave me. Feelings that I have never felt before, not even for Vivian… oh… how I ached to tell her everything that I longed to say… But I couldn't… I would never be able to make an honest woman out of her… not as long as Vivian and the boys needed me. And with as much as I hated myself for it, no matter how my heart ached for my Rosalie… I could only hurt her more… in the time it would take… I would only hurt her more and I couldn't live with myself to cause her to cry once more.

I couldn't believe I was doing this, but I had to do it… no matter how much I hated myself for it for the rest of my life. I had to hurt her in order to save her; no matter how much it hurt me; I was doing it for her.

"I'm sorry Rose…" I took a deep breath. She wouldn't believe me if I sobbed miserably throughout the explanation. I had to appear unmoved, though it was near impossible to make a straight face when I looked into her teary eyes… knowing that I just might never see them again. Slowly, I forced myself to look straight into her tearful eyes, hoping to god that I wouldn't cry too.

"I choose Vivian."

She gasped in shock, the sound clenched at my heart and twisted forcibly. As though she had almost expected me to choose her, as if I could. In that moment, I could hear the sound of her breathing changed; almost like I could see a big gaping hole in her chest where her heart had been… I knew just where it was and just how much it ached… because there was one in my chest too… we had exchanged hearts a long time ago… and now I had to give hers back… I knew that there was no punishment in Hell that could fit these crimes that I had committed against the woman that I love.

"Are… are you… breaking up with me?" her voice was so weak as she stared at me doe-eyed and vulnerable. I had to lie to her… I had to leave… but what do I say to that? I forced a shrug, hoping it came off as indifferent and said the one of the worst things a man could ever say to a woman; especially a woman he loves.

"I don't see it that we were ever in the sort of relationship where breaking up would at all apply to this separation." I couldn't look at her again… I knew I would crack… I just fought to keep my eyes on the sheets, "But in some ways… I suppose I am." my Rosalie was gaping at me in hurt and disbelief. _Only because I love you…and I can't bear to hurt you again_…I added in my head, for my own benefit.

After a brief silence, she got to her feet, the blanket wrapped around her naked body, and she opened the door. She didn't look at me or say anything, but she didn't have to. I knew it was time for me to leave. With a heavy sigh, I grabbed my clothes and dressed quickly before I started to slowly trudge my way to the front door, though my feet wanted so badly to turn back around.

I was about halfway to the door when she called my name, throwing her arms around my neck in the next second and kissing me. Before I had time to register the action, she stopped and whispered, "Please, just let me have one kiss." She begged, and finally, I lost all willpower to refuse her and I wrapped my arms around her tightly. I guess, I figured if I held her tight enough than the rest of the world would disappear… and for a moment, it did. She put her hands on my chest and she lifted her face as I lowered mine and found her lips with mine. _Oh Rosalie…_ I thought. _I don't want to leave you. I want to stay here with you, laugh and love with you and share the thousands of mundane tasks that bind lives. Carry the things that are too heavy for you, reach the things that are too high, shovel your walk when it snows, shave in your bathroom and use the same hairbrush. Stand in a doorway in the morning and watch you dress, and in the same doorway in the evening and watch you undress. Call home to say, I'm on my way. To share unshaven Sundays and rainy Mondays and the last glass of milk in the carton with you. I want to share everything with you—an occasional glass of wine, two weeks in Mexico, dinner by candlelight… graying hair and lost keys and colds in the winter. No, I don't want to leave you. Ever._

I gathered her even closer and her arms circled around my neck when our mouths met a second time and the kiss deepened. By the time we drew apart, our breathing was labored and our mouths wet and it had not been nearly long enough. But she whispered, "Please… don't let go," and I didn't want to. But I had to. And I forced myself to let her go. I couldn't hide the reluctance in my actions anymore as I said softly, "Good bye, Rosalie." She bit her lip and nodded, looking down as I reached for the door. I stopped to take one last look at that beautiful face that I knew I would miss more than anything.

But as I stepped across the threshold, I whispered softly,

"Good bye." was the last thing I heard her say before I closed the door… and I whispered back to her over my shoulder…

"My heart will always belong to you…" and I pulled the door closed behind me, perhaps for the last time, closing the door to the woman I love…

**Author's Note: Well… what did you guys think of the new story so far? I kept a lot of things the same but I changed several things, like where and when they met, their ages, etc… I also threw in a little bit more information about Vivian; I was trying to put it in perspective why he can't just leave her, as I know a lot of you have been wondering. Well, don't worry. I'm going straight to work on the next chapter now, but it might take an extra day or two from now on between updates. But please don't give up on me. You'll be hearing from me again soon. Read & Review!**

**Love, Emmy**


	7. Donuts and Dreams

**Chapter 7: Donuts and Dreams**

At 6:45 A.M. I was just pulling into the Sparhawk Lower School drop-off lane. "Alright, baby doll, you show them your smarts and remember to give that note to your teacher." I said as I pulled around the bend and came to a stop out in front of the school. "Oh, and _do not_ forget and take the bus home today, ok? Grandma is gonna pick you up after school and take her back to her house for the weekend. So don't forget,"

"I know, Mommy. I won't." Catherine said as she zipped up her book bag and climbed out of the van.

"Do you have your dolly?" I checked, referring to the little rag doll with yellow yarn for hair and blue buttons for eyes that wore a pink dress that my mother had made for her before she was born. I didn't usually allow her to take her toys to school with her but it was Friday and it was her turn to do Show-and-Tell.

"Yeah. She's in my book bag."

"Good girl," I said as I blew her a kiss. "Oh! And Catherine! Come here really quick," she obediently returned to my window as I said quietly. "Um, about your dad coming back, let's just keep that to ourselves for a few days, okay?"

"Can I tell Grandma?" she asked.

"No, don't tell Grandma. I don't want her to worry." I said, even though that was only part of the real reason I didn't want her to tell anyone. The truth was that my mother still did not know much about whom Catherine's father was, other than that he was an architect in Boston and that we had broken up long before I even knew I was pregnant by him. If she were to find out that he was here then I would never hear the end of it.

But Catherine nodded in agreement and I smiled at her. "Don't worry, Sweetheart. We can tell her soon." The car behind me honked their horn and I sighed, leaning over to kiss Catherine's head one more time. "Have a good day at school, pumpkin. And be a good girl for Grandma, this weekend. I love you and I'll see you Sunday afternoon."

"Okay, I love you Mommy."

"I love you too, baby doll. See you later!" I called after her as I watched her run to the door and followed a few other kids inside. I smiled to myself as I put the car back in Drive and left the parking lot. But instead of turning right, which would have taken me home, I turned left and headed into town.

I arrived at the hotel just a few minutes after seven, quickly checking my hair and makeup in my reflection in the car window quickly before heading into the lobby and finding the clerk at the reception desk.

"May I help you?" asked the sweet old woman with thick glasses and curly white hair.

"Um, yes. I'm actually just stopping by to pick up a friend of mine and I was wondering if you could give me the room number," I said politely.

"Well, I think I can help you. What's your friend's name?"

"A Mr. Emmett McCarthy."

"Hm… McCarthy… McCarthy… hmm…" she scanned down the list of names, frowning as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm afraid there is no one here registered by that name." She said apologetically as she looked up at me. "I am terribly sorry, dear. Are you sure you have the right hotel?"

"Oh, well," I became rather flustered. "I had just assumed he was staying here. This is the closest hotel to town and by far the nicest. I was sure he'd come here…"

"Rosalie?" said a familiar voice.

I turned and there he was, coming down the stairs dressed in jeans and a small-print plaid button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of dark brown boots. "Emmett!" I said, still rather flustered. I had almost begun to think that him coming over yesterday was just a dream.

"What are you doing here?" he asked me. He looked as surprised to see me there, as I was to see him, I just hoped that it was a pleasant surprise. Embarrassed, I said, "Oh, I was just going to stop by and see if you wanted to go get some coffee."

He smiled. "That sounds great, I was actually just heading out to grab a bite to eat, myself. Would you care to join me?"

I brightened at the gesture; he had never offered me to join him in public before. "That sounds wonderful." I decided not to mention that I had already eaten breakfast with Catherine, and risk spoiling the moment. "Would you like me to drive, or—"

"No, I can drive if you want. That is, if you don't mind riding in old jeep." He laughed. I had almost forgotten the jeep. I had only ridden in it once before and that was back when I was eighteen and my car had broken down after midnight and my parents weren't answering and I hadn't known who else to call.

"Are you kidding? Ride in the cool tricked out jeep and miss out riding in my super awesome powder blue mini van?" I joked. He laughed.

"So where to?" he asked as he helped me climb up into the jeep before jogging back around to the driver's side and jumping in. I only had to think for a minute. "Well, there's this little diner in town called the Donut Hole; it's basically a hole in the wall; the place looks like a dump, but the food is great. The best donuts in New England!" I said, I decided not to mention that I also used to work there until recently. "Then there's this coffee place that's next door to a bakery, the coffee's a bit pricey but for what it's worth…" I gushed, finding that my animated responses made him chuckle.

"Hm…" he thought for a moment, contemplating. "How about the Donut Hole?" he asked. I nodded, thinking that I shouldn't have mentioned the _Best in New England_ part. "Sure, sounds great."

Immediately when I walked in the door, the other waitresses greeted me.

_Hey Rose_;_ Oh, Rosalie! We've missed you_; _Aw, Rose, it's so good to see you_, and the like. Emmett leaned down to speak softly in my ear. "I take it you're a regular here?"

I waited to answer until we were sliding into a booth by the window. "Actually, I used to work here," I explained. "But I was laid off a couple weeks ago."

Startled, he inquired, "What do you mean? Why?"

I sighed and explained about the sudden drop in tourists coming up during tourist season and how the diner had not made enough money last season in order to keep all their employees and how, being one of the more recent to have started working there, I was among the three waitresses to be let go. "They also said that they took my college degree into account. They said that since I was in the situation where I could find a better job than waitressing at a diner. They said I was too smart to wear an apron for the rest of my life." I said quietly.

"Oh that's right, you have that degree… What was it in, again?" he asked curiously as he took a sip of his coffee.

I sighed. "A law degree," I said. He looked at me with big eyes.

"A law degree?" I nodded. "A _law_ degree? And you're stuck here waitressing?" he exclaimed, baffled. But I just nodded again. "You got a law degree and you left Boston to live in Lincoln county Maine to be a waitress?" I gave a soft laugh.

"I know, it sounds ridiculous, right?"

"Ridiculous? It's insane! Do you have any idea how much a lawyer can make? Even just starting out they make a pretty decent living," I sighed heavily.

"I know. Trust me, I know. But I couldn't be a lawyer,"

"Why not?"

I paused and looked up from my coffee into his eyes as I answered quietly. "Who would take care of Catherine?" I reasoned. "If I were to pursue becoming a lawyer, than I would be working at all hours of the day. There would be no guarantee that I'd be there when she got home from school, or in the morning to fix her breakfast and drop her off. I may not be there every night to make sure she gets to bed on time and is tucked in. If I were a lawyer, I'd have to leave her with my mom all the time and honestly, what kind of a mother would I be if I just dropped my own child with my mother every single day so that I can aspire a career that would keep me away from home all the time?" Emmett sighed and looked down.

"You're right. I guess it's a lot different being a single parent and having to do all this by yourself," he said thoughtfully. At that moment, our orders arrived and for the remainder of the meal, we kept to lighter topics, and I never got around to asking the most important question yet; _What about Vivian?_

Author's Note: Hey y'all! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I started out with a little bit of trouble, but I kind of like how it turned out. What do you guys think? Please review, you guys. I know this story's had hundreds more visitors that don't review than the handful of readers who do. Your reviews really keep me motivated and help me come up with the most interesting chapter content. So please, if you have a comment, I'll take one-word reviews! So really everybody, tell me what you think. Hope to hear from you! R&R

**Love, Emmy**


	8. Lover's Again

**Chapter 8: Lovers Again**

"So, why wasn't your name on the registry?" I asked him as he swiped his room key and opened the door to his hotel room, letting me in first.

"What?"

"You know, the hotel registry. The old woman at the desk said you weren't on it. I was just curious as to why you weren't signed in,"

"Oh, well… I paid in cash." He said. Not that I didn't believe him, but I found something odd about his answer. Like he wasn't telling me everything.

"That's it?" I inquired as I sat down at the little table by the window and I took in the appearance of the room. The bed was unmade, his toiletries strewn across the dresser on the other wall, laundry left in a heap by his suitcase. I smiled, same old Emmett.

"Well…" he said, but paused to close the door and then to make a quick attempt at straightening the place up before he answered me. "To be perfectly honest, Rosalie," he began as he buckled his seat belt and revved the engine. "I kind of have to keep a low profile for a while."

"Why, did you kill somebody?" I teased. To my immense relief, he chuckled and shook his head as he sat down across from me at the little table.

"No, I haven't killed anybody." He assured me. "It's just… my lawyer's just recommended that I lay low for a little while and, well," he paused, thinking before he answered. "It's just… this is turning into a really sloppy divorce," he admitted at last. Suddenly my ears were ringing; had he really just said the word I used to dream of hearing him say to me all those years ago? "It's not that I'm ashamed to be here, don't think that's it," he went on. "It's just, that if I were to pick up with this affair again than I can't guarantee that no one would find out about it and use it against me in court… Vivian doesn't want to give me the divorce, you see." I had imagined she wouldn't.

"And I'm sure if they found out that you have a secret love child conveniently kept a couple of hours away, that wouldn't look too good for you either," I said softly, looking dreamily out the window, imagining how different my life could have been if he hadn't have been married when we'd met. If he had married me instead...

Emmett heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples. "You're right," he said. "I didn't really think about what kind of affect finding out about Catherine would have on my case…" but he quickly added, "Don't get me wrong! I'm glad I know now, honest. It's just… I'm afraid I'm not really going to make too much of a father for her until my divorce is settled, though." He said remorsefully. I had only assumed as much. "But I was right about one thing," he said, not looking too happy about having to say this, his eyes staring straight ahead. "The boys aren't mine."

Shocked, I said, "Oh, oh Emmett… I'm so sorry, I had no idea—"

"No it's alright, I don't think I've ever showed you a picture of them… but they look absolutely nothing like me," he scoffed lightly. "It ran through my mind more than once… especially when I saw them next to my old friend… I'm quite sure that he's their real father… the son of a bitch,"

"Having children out of wedlock with another man's wife?" I said dryly, leaning back in my seat and folding my arms across my chest. He looked back up at me, alarmed.

"No, please, Rosalie… I don't mean to say anything against you, it's just—"

"It's just what, Emmett?" I asked him. "Aren't you and I in the exact same situation reversed? It's not like you and I were openly announcing to the world that we were having an affair,"

"But I didn't know you'd gotten pregnant until—"

"And that excuses it? Face it, Emmett. You can't say anything bad against Vivian and the real father of those two boys without saying the exact same thing about me and you." I argued.

"Yes, but you weren't present the whole time parading yourself around as Vivian's best friend," he insisted.

"No. I didn't. Because you didn't let me anywhere near your family." I said, stung by the old memories. "Maybe you've forgotten, Emmett, but I still remember the day when I ran into you at the mall and you insisted that I had confused you with someone else and hurried along your way. Did you really think I was going to jump up and say, '_Hey, you must be Vivian! I've heard so much about you. What? You mean Emmett hasn't told you? I'm sleeping with your husband, it's so nice to meet you!_'"

Emmett stared at me, "What? No!" he insisted in a hushed voice, looking around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping on our conversation. "Rosalie, please. I'm sorry. I know, you're right. I'm a scumbag for cheating on Vivian all those years. But honestly, I can't regret it," he said gently as he took my hands in his. "Because if I'd never gone to that stupid costume party, then I would have never met you," He leaned forward and kissed my palm, a long, lingering kiss that kept him doubled over as if awaiting benediction. I remembered him seven years ago, never expressing himself in dear, romantic ways like this, and I wondered if he had been this way with Vivian. With my free hand I stroked the back of his head, the hair just as soft as the last time I had caressed it.

"Emmett," I said softly.

He lifted his head and our eyes met. "Come over here… please," I whispered.

He left his chair and came around the table, never letting go of my hand. I stood as he reached me and looked up into his face, realizing that I had never stopped loving him as I'd often convinced myself I had. I placed both my hands on his chest as he took me in his arms, our lips only inches apart. Then finally, as I had longed for him to do for longer than I cared to admit, he lowered his mouth to mine and I moved my hands from his chest to his shoulders and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

With his hands tightly holding onto my waist, he held his body close against mine, and I could feel what our kiss had started against my lower stomach. One of his hands left my waist and found my breast and I slipped my hands back down his body and fumbled with his belt buckle as he pushed me back against the wall next to his bed and he kissed my throat, my jaw, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse with desire. "God, Rose, I've missed you,"

Then he kissed my mouth and the fervor built and set our hands in motion. We tasted and tested, his lips moist and supple and impatient. He bit my lower lip, licked it and spoke against my mouth. "You taste exactly the way I remember."

"Mmmm… how do I taste?" I murmured.

He drew back and smiled into my eyes. "Like roses if they were sweet." I laughed and kissed him again.

Suddenly struck by a sluice of happiness, I tightly fit myself back against him, wherever and however I could fit—my face to his neck, my arms around his middle my breasts flattened, giving myself license to love being body to body with him at last.

"We were so young then, Emmett." I said softly.

"And it hurt me to leave you like that…" His hands roamed down my spine and came up beneath my blouse, his fingers grazing the skin there and giving me goose bumps.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

"So did I.""

"But when I had Catherine, and I was lying in that hospital bed holding her, I still fantasized that you would just walk through that door with a bouquet of pink roses and promise to never leave me again," I admitted.

He smiled. "If I'd have known you were in the hospital then I would have,"

"And when you didn't, the years passed and I thought I'd forgotten about you. I truly convinced myself that I had. But then I saw you again, standing on my front porch; it was like a kick in the stomach. I… I just wasn't prepared for it."

"I'd thought I was, but in truth, I wasn't…" he said quietly. Suddenly I had to see his face. Had to. So I pulled back, looking up, still flush against his hips and he said the three words that I had never anticipated hearing from him, and we weren't even in bed, "I love you,"

My eyes filled with tears and I smiled, kissing him again. "I love you too, Emmett." It was then that he began to unbutton my blouse, slipping it off before he unclasped my bra, ran his hands around my ribs and took both my breasts in hand at once…warm and erect. Gently…lovingly…stroking and all the while he never looked away from my face.

I closed my eyes and parted my lips, thinking back to when we were young, all the things we had felt then, we felt now. I swayed pliantly as he stroked my skin, and I smiled, my eyes still closed. From my throat came a sound of delight, neither word nor moan, a mingling of the two.

He dropped to one knee and I watched from above as his warm, wet mouth opened upon my flesh, renewing old memories. His head swayed, his tongue stroked, then his teeth gently closed on my skin and I gasped as my muscles contracted.

He put his face against my bare midriff and made a hot spot with his tongue before moving to my other breast, as I cradled his head, drifting in sensation. In time he lifted his face and he asked, "You nervous?"

"Yes."

"Me, too."

With a smile he released me and began freeing the buttons of his gray button-down shirt, tugging its tails out of his pants. When I reached for the top button on my skirt, he caught my hand and said, "No. Let me," and he hooked a finger into the belt loops on either side of my hips and pulled me back over to him and unfastening the buttons before slipping the fabric back down my hips, looking down at me in the light flooding in from the window.

"You're beautiful, Rose." He brushed his knuckles along the sides of my breasts and across my nipples.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are. I thought so seven years ago and I think so now."

"You haven't changed much, you hardly look any different." I noted, pleased that he hadn't. And I went to finish removing his gray button-down shirt, then the white one underneath, tugging it over his head and further disheveling his hair. When he was naked from the waist up, she took his white undershirt in her hands and held it to her face, breathing in deeply, calling back another memory.

"Mmm… you smell the same." I noted as I lifted my face, tossing the shirt aside. He smiled and kissed me again. His belt came next and I could feel heat pounding everywhere in my body. I freed his buckle and the heavy metal snap at his waist, watching his eyes as I laid my hand flat upon him and caressed him for the first time through the faded blue denim. My first stroke closed his eyes. My second brought him leaning forward, hard against me, reaching behind me and slipped his fingers under the elastic rim of my lacy underwear—suddenly I was glad I'd decided to wear them today. I unzipped his jeans and murmured against his lips, "It's been a long time, Emmett… I've missed this…"

We finished undressing each other in a rush. That first moment of nakedness might have been strained but he put self-consciousness to rout by catching my hands and bringing them to his lips, kissing my fingertips.

He dropped our hands and his expression turned grave. "I'm not going to stretch the truth and say that I always loved you, but I did the last couple years and I've loved you ever since. I think it's important to say before we do this."

"Oh, Emmett…" I replied wistfully. "I love you, too. I tried very hard not to, but I couldn't help myself."

He caught me beneath the knees and arms and he laid me across the bed and he touched me in places he'd touched years ago—breasts, hips and inside. I touched him, too, stroked and studied him in the window light and made him tremble and feel strong one minute and weak the next. He kissed me in all the places he'd kissed before, along my ribs and limbs.

I tasted him in return, reveling in his textures and responses, each passing moment trying our patience.

When the limits of desire had been tested, he braced himself above me and asked, "Do we have to be careful not to get you pregnant?"

My face turned red and I bit my lip and nodded. Yes. I could still get pregnant and we could not make the same careless mistake twice, no matter how thankful I was for the wonderful little girl that one act of carelessness had given me. "I haven't taken the Pill since…" I thought about it, I had stopped taking it when I'd found out I was pregnant with Catherine, but I'd started taking it again for a short time when she was two years old and I'd been seeing a man who had stopped calling after I'd mentioned that I was a single mother. "Five years, I think?"

"Um… actually, I think I got something," he said before quickly jumping off of me and going to his suitcase, pulling out a little square wrapper. "I actually don't remember where I got this, but the expiration date on it's still good." I laughed and as soon as he slipped it on, he crawled back onto the bed and met me with a kiss as he braced himself above me once again.

Our reunion was slow and supple, a mating of spirits as well as bodies. He took his time easing into me, and I whimpered softly and squirmed uncomfortably as our nether regions became reacquainted with each other. When at last we were wholly bound, we poised, motionless, making a new memory of the moment when after so many years, they became lovers again.

Momentarily he pressed back, found my eyes wide and glistening. I girded his hips with my hands and set him in motion, silken and strong within me. He found my hands and clasped them against the begging while I watched his face.

"You're smiling," he said huskily.

"So are you."

"What are you thinking?"

"You're bigger than I remember,"

"Thanks. Your hips are wider than I remember,"

"I've had a baby."

"I'm glad it was mine."

In time I drew his head down and our smiles faded, drawn away by the wondrous gravity of sensuality. We shared our lust and find driven movements before he wrapped my body close in his arms and took me with him, rolling to our sides. Squeezing his eyes shut he held himself deep within me.

"God, it feels like coming full circle, like this is where I should have been all along."

"Have you wondered what it would have been like if we'd met before you'd married Viv—"

"Please don't talk about her, I won't want to think about her right now."

"But have you?"

"Constantly. Have you?"

"Of course." I admitted.

He turned me beneath him and the rhythm resumed. I watched his hair move and his arms tremble as they bore his weight. I rose to meet him, thrust for thrust, and murmured pleasured sounds that he echoed.

He came first, and she watched it happen upon his face, watched his eyes close, his throat arch, and his muscles tense; watched beads of sweat upon his brow in the moment before the wondrous distress shook and shattered him.

When his body had calmed he opened his eyes, still leaning above her. "Rose, I'm sorry," he whispered, as if there were some preset order.

"Don't be sorry," she whispered, touching his damp brow, his temple. "I love to watch you. And besides," I added guilelessly, "I'm next."

**Author's Note: Well, tell me what you think. Did you like it? I hope I didn't freak you out too much when they started to fight a little bit, but as they always say; there's no sex like makeup sex! Read & Review!**

**Love, Emmy**


	9. Catching Up

**Author's Note: Hey everyone, first off I would like to thank _Maldita_, _kayail1995_, _Ivy_ and _crematlv19_ for your reviews and support. They really mean a lot. I hope you like this chapter and I can hear from more of you about what you think. Enjoy! Read & Review**

**Chapter 9: Catching Up**

I awoke to the feel of our moist skin touching and his hand lying lax on my stomach, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. I lay still, filling my senses: his rhythmic breath on the pillow; rumpled eyelet sheet covering our shoulders; my naked rump sealed to his thighs. The smell of his skin and the flowery smell of my perfume hung in the air; sunshine lighting the room; dusty-rose paper covered the walls; the noiseless motion of white lace curtains in the forced air from the AC unit below the window. Warmth. Contentment.

By the time I opened my eyes and looked at the clock, it was nearly ten-fifteen. I smiled and rolled back over to my spot next to Emmett, who had fallen asleep after we had made love for the third time. I touched his hair and he stirred, looking up at me as I leaned over him, and he smiled at me.

"Was I out long?" he asked as he stretched, turning his head to glance at the clock.

"Not too long; about half an hour, I guess. I think I fell asleep too," I smiled as I continued to play with his curls, brushing them away from his forehead and twirling them around my fingers as I had so many times before.

"Ah," he yawned. "I'm sorry, Rosy." He said as he brought his arms back down around me and pulled me closer, bringing my lips down onto his. I kissed him back wholeheartedly but when we parted, I finally could not resist asking him.

"Emmett?"

"Hmmm?"

"Where… where does this leave us? I mean—is it going to be like it was before? Are you going to visit just as often as you can get away and keep Catherine and me a secret? I mean… I suppose I would understand it if you do, I just need to know myself first before people start to talk about me suddenly appearing around town with a man who looks suspiciously like my daughter," I said. It was a small town and I knew that they would gossip.

Emmett sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes tiredly before turning back and looking directly into my eyes. "Rosalie, I've got enough to feel guilty about, and I've already lost you once. I'm not about to do it again. I intend on seeing you and Catherine as much as I can. I love you, and I plan on staying for a while. In fact, as soon as I can get everything settled back in Boston, I might even look into moving out here. Or at least somewhere closer—"

"Oh, Emmett!" I cried, tears coming to my eyes. I couldn't believe my ears. Was he really considering moving out here just to be closer to me and our daughter? A daughter that he hadn't even known existed until just earlier this week! "Do you mean it?" I asked him. "You would move all the way out here just to be with me?"

He chuckled as he kissed the tip of my nose. "Well, I'd be crazy not to." He replied. "And about the gossip, I don't care if you don't. But if you want a story, you can tell everyone that I'm courting you," he smiled, running his hands down my sides and over my rump.

I smiled, _courting_ me? "Will you be?"

"Absolutely. As often as I can."

"But what about your job in the city?"

"I can find something out here. Besides, city life is beginning to make me crazy. Did you know that I was born in _Norfolk_, Massachusetts?" he asked.

"Really?" I said, astonished. "I'd thought you lived in Boston your whole life!"

He laughed. "Nah, I actually moved to Boston when I turned eighteen; thought I needed a change but after almost twenty years in the city, I kinda miss the small town life." He said thoughtfully, suddenly I admired him even more as he gazed up at the ceiling and I could only guess what kind of memories were flashing through his mind as he thought back to his hometown. I wondered what he had been like as a child. Had he ridden his bicycle to school every day and run barefoot in the summers and snuck beer from his parents' liquor cabinet when he was twelve and shared it with his friends in a clubhouse he had helped his father build when he was seven? Had he spent countless hours on a front porch swing with his mother in the cool summer evenings with a cherry coke and eaten fresh vegetables from the garden at every meal and said grace before he ate? Spent every Saturday night in his teens sneaking out of his parents' house and gone to the bomb fire on the riverbank with all his friends and be sitting in a church pew bright and early every Sunday morning? Had he learned to swim in the river and learned to fight in a parking lot and learned to love in the backseat of a car? Had his childhood been anything like mine had?

"Where were _you _born?" he asked as he began to massage his fingers through my hair lovingly. I smiled and told him about my childhood growing up in a little town.

"My mother still owns that house, you know." I told him, telling him about my childhood home with passion. The old Victorian Queen Anne house had been built in 1880 in Ellsworth; it was almost a two-hour drive from here to the small town in Hancock County. "Oh, Emmett, you'd just adore it. It's absolutely beautiful. It's on a hill and the town only has five thousand people in it! It's got great school systems and a low crime rate and it's twenty-three miles to Bangor or Bar Harbor. The back of the house was added on back in '96 to replace the old carriage house that was all falling in and unusable. But it's got walk-in closets and a gazebo on the corner of the big wrap-around porch and three balconies! Oh, it's absolutely beautiful. I actually tried to move to Ellsworth but couldn't find a house I liked quite enough and I could afford. Though I did move back in with my parents at first, while I looked. I felt so bad, leaving my mother and little sister all alone in that great big house… especially after Daddy died," I sighed sadly. "But she insisted that she would be fine and that I needed to get back out on my own, and I guess she was right… we still visit from time to time. Catherine's actually going to be staying with her this weekend; she loves it up there. Almost as much as I do."

"Wow," Emmett said, impressed. "Did you have a lot of siblings? Sounds like a big house,"

"Oh yes, I was the fifth of seven in total," I explained. "Well, nine, actually… if you count the twins, but they both died before my parents brought them home from the hospital. I wasn't born yet; I was the first born after them."

"Your parents had _nine_ kids?" he said, astonished. "No way!" I could tell he was impressed. "Tell me about them, are any of them like you?"

"Hardly," I laughed. "Well first there was Todd, he's forty-two and he's a lawyer in Chicago and we haven't seen too much of him since he moved out in his early twenties. But he's married and has got three girls and a little boy and from what I hear, he's happy. Then there's my brother Adam, he's forty and he's also a lawyer, but he lives in Boston. Actually, you met him once. Do you remember that one time you came over and he was visiting? You know, the fairly handsome man with the wavy blonde hair and glasses?"

"Yeah, I think so—oh yeah! Actually I do; the guy with the good handshake, right?"

"That's him! Well, he was living in Boston with his twin boys until his wife, Susan died a few years ago from breast cancer. She was the sweetest thing and we all miss her very much, but he moved back home after that and he's since remarried. His new wife's name is Nancy and she's got two girls and they run a bed and breakfast in Ellington, now." I said, fondly thinking of my older brother. "Then, there's Caleb. He's thirty-six and a surgeon in New York but he lives in Jersey with his girlfriend and their three boys. Then Andrew, and he is absolutely nothing like the rest of us," I said with a giggle. "He is thirty-three and quite openly homosexual and lives in Paris with his boyfriend, Jean-Luke, and he is a food critique," I explained, giggling at Emmett's stunned expression. But I sobered after a little while as I moved on to my next siblings. "Then there's Annabel and Abigail," I added. "They were the twins, they'd be thirty-one now but Annabel died after two days and Abigail was stillborn," I explained sadly. I paused for a moment as I thought about the pictures and the stories I had heard about the broken window in the nursery and the weeks my mother had spent in the darkness of her bedroom sobbing. I shivered and Emmett's arms tightened around me, waiting patiently for me to continue.

"Well, then there was me, and I'm twenty-nine, as you know. Then there was my baby brother, Abel…" I paused again. "But he drowned when he was five and I was eight…" I sighed sadly. "It was a fishing accident… he had taken off his life jacket and fell into the water, but he couldn't swim and my father dove again and again into the water looking for him… but we only found his body when it washed up ashore over two weeks later…" Another cold chill swept over my body and I snuggled even closer as I finished, "But then Lucy was born three years after the accident… she wasn't planned… actually, I can remember how shocked she was. Later on, she told me that she had thought she'd been going to menopause, because she was forty-eight years old by then and had stopped using… precautions…" I still winced at the thought of my mother needing to use any sort of "precautions", even being a grown woman with a child of my own, I still didn't like to. But what child would want to imagine their parents that way? Emmett laughed at my awkwardness and I swatted his chest playfully. "Oh, hush! Like you don't think the same things about your parents!" He just laughed and kissed my forehead.

"Well, I envy you." He said at last. "I only had one brother growing up." He revealed as I listened quietly. "He was several years older than me, but he was killed in the Gulf War when he was nineteen. But we were never really close; he was always doing his own things with his own friends… not to say that I didn't idolize him, though. Oh yeah, if Jacob was doing something then I'd be doing it later on. When I caught him smoking cigarettes with his friends out back of the house, the next day I snuck a one out of his room and tried to smoke it the next day. A'course I almost choked to death and never tried 'em again," he said and I laughed. "And when he was drinking a beer, I wanted one too—although the beer I actually liked," he chuckled, and I wondered if he was thinking back to that day after his promotion that we'd spent so long in the bathtub drinking Bud Lights; the night from my dream, but he continued. "And I came real' close to joining the military too, until my mother begged me not to… said she couldn't bear to lose me too. So I didn't, and I went to school and became an architect and I moved to the city… partially to get away from small-town-life, also to get away from my dad," he said. For some reason, and I couldn't be sure if I had imagined it or not, I thought he had once mentioned his father being an alcoholic and had finally drunk himself to death some time after Emmett had graduated college. But he didn't elaborate on it and I didn't push him to tell me. "And then Mom died two years ago, from ovarian cancer… and now I'm all that's left." He said simply, sighing heavily and frowning up at the ceiling.

After a long silence, he finally turned back to me and asked me, "So tell me more about Catherine," and I was more than happy to oblige. I told him about the day she was born; the excruciating eighteen hours of labor after a fairly easy pregnancy that I was thankful for every single day that had not left me stretch-marked and plump like my mother's eight pregnancies had left her. About the moment I heard her first cry and knowing the moment I had seen her that she resembled him. "She was born exactly on time and she weighed six pounds and two ounces," I explained. "And, the poor thing, her cheeks were a little swollen—like some babies are after coming through the birth canal—and she was so cute! She looked like a little baby chipmunk or a rabbit," I gushed and then went on to tell him all about her; her love for art and music and gardening; her favorite colors were pink-rose and pale green; her favorite movie was The Wizard of Oz and her favorite pair of shoes were her red-sequined ballet flats that she called her "ruby slippers" and she was terrified of the flying monkeys but not of the witch; she had learned to read in preschool and was currently halfway through the third Harry Potter book; she had stopped drawing on the walls when she was four and still slept with a stuffed rabbit that she had lovingly named "Bunny"; and that she desperately wanted to have a dog and was still trying to convince me to indulge her wishes."

"Why don't you want a dog?" he asked me.

"I don't know… we never had a dog growing up and I wouldn't know what kind of a dog to get, or if I could afford it… especially now that I don't have a job," I said, but nodded and we talked and talked until I glanced at the clock.

"Holy shit! It's almost two o'clock!" I exclaimed, flying out of bed and throwing on my clothes. Startled, Emmett moved to sit on the edge of the bed and said,

"What's the matter?"

"I gotta be there when Catherine gets home or she'll be locked out of the house—wait a minute," I stopped pulling on my skirt and straightened back up. My back was on him, but I could feel the smirk on his face just as plainly as if I could see it. "Oh hush, I forgot Mom was picking her up," I said as he laughed at me, rolling back onto the mattress. I couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard, but I loved hearing it. And I shimmied back out of my skirt and crawled on top of him and straddled his waist.

"Emmett?" I said sweetly as his laughter faded to a chuckle that shook me on top of him. "It suddenly struck me that we've never done it on the beach…" now I had his full attention as I continued, "and there's this great little spot that we should be able to find some privacy, that is… if you're interested," I said as seductively as I could.

"And Catherine's gone till Sunday?"

"Till Sunday _evening_,"

"Then what are we waiting for?"

**Author's Note: Well, what did you guys think? I know, a little fluff but I wanted them to have the chance to kind of catch up and to learn more about one another. But next chapter will probably be about the whole weekend and I'm planning a little romantic getaway to Pemaquid Beach, and there'll be a little bit more action in that chapter. I'm thinking about having Emmett defend her from something, I don't know… what do you all think? Read & Review!**


	10. Pemaquid Beach

**Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your understanding and for your prayers and support. I really needed them. All is okay again, and I hope you all will enjoy this chapter as much as you've been enjoying the rest. Remember, if you have any ideas or suggestions, or even some constructive criticism then I would love to hear what you think, and I promise not to throw another temper tantrum like before. LOL Enjoy! R&R**

**Chapter 10: Pemaquid Beach**

We arrived at our hotel at Pemaquid Beach just before 7:30 P.M. I had driven the van back from the hotel and parked it in the garage while Emmett had followed me in the jeep. It had taken longer than we'd anticipated for us to get him checked out of his hotel room back in town for the weekend, and then I had had to pack and we'd had to stop for gas and everything. But it was already dark by the time we'd eaten and settled into the room and were finally getting ready to go down to the beach. Emmett had taken all of thirty seconds to change into his navy blue swim trunks and flip-flops, but I had had difficulty deciding which bathing suit to wear, even though I'd only brought two.

"What do you think of this one? I haven't worn a bikini since I was twenty-two, do you think it would still look okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned. My younger sister, Lucy had actually bought the suit for herself but it had ended up being a little bit too big, so she'd given it to me. It was a simple white halter top with a buckle in the center and two buckles at the hips of the bottoms. She had insisted that it would look fine, but I was harder to convince.

"I like it, I'd love to see you in it." He insisted, raising his eyebrows and giving me an approving nod from his spot on the bed, his eyes grazing hungrily across my body and a big goofy grin revealing those adorable dimples that I loved so much.

"Well… I guess if you say so… I'll wear this one tomorrow when there'll be more people out." I said, tossing a navy blue one-piece with a skirted bottom back into the suitcase and donning the white bikini.

"Well, you ready to go?" he asked as I wrapped my cover-up around myself and slipped my feet into my sandals.

Just as I was about to answer, his phone rang and he sighed as he dug into his pocket after it and pulled it out and glanced at the number. I didn't know who it was but the number completely effaced any traces of amusement on his face and he sighed. "I'm sorry, Rose. But I gotta take this." He apologized sincerely. But I waved him off.

"I don't mind one bit. You can stay here; I'll just go ahead and head on down to the beach."

"You sure?" he asked, concerned, but I nodded and he consented. "Alright, I'll only be a minute," he gave me a quick peck on the lips and I started heading for the door while he took the call. When he answered, his voice was cool.

"Yeah?" Pause. "Oh, hey Tom. What's going on?" A short pause, "What? Look, I don't want to have to deal with any of this right now. I left Boston to _get away_ for the week, so why are you calling me now? It's almost ten o'clock!" another pause. "Is that right? Well you can tell _Kowalski_ that I'm not interested…" then I closed the door and I could no longer hear his voice, and I started heading downstairs, humming softly to myself as I headed outside into the cool night air, hugging my cover-up to my body as I started down the street, following the sound of the ocean.

I could hear the laughing before I saw the smoke from their cigarettes. A group of young men stood around in a circle, blocking the walkway onto the beach, clearly tourists by the looks of them. I hesitated, but decided to assume them harmless. So I held my head high and kept my arms folded across my stomach as I headed for the walkway, suddenly wishing I had worn the blue one-piece suit after all.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here…" the first one said. I decided that they had probably come from Boston, judging by his accent.

"Looks like we got ourselves a little treat! What do you think, Royce?" said another as he backhanded the chest of another one to grab their attention, nodding in my direction. Then I slowed and lowered my hands to my sides, fists clenched.

The man named Royce I took to be the leader of their little gang. He was tall and lean, but I couldn't tell anything else about him in the dark. "What 'cha doing out so late, girl? Ain't it past your curfew?" he laughed and the others joined in, the sound of their laughter made my stomach twist in knots. A spew of profanities flashed through my mind that I wanted to snarl, but I held my tongue. I didn't know what these men would be willing to do and Emmett would be coming along shortly. I hoped.

"Maybe she's one o' them Lowell gals," the first one said to Royce.

"Nah… she's too pretty to be a local, what's your name, sweetheart?" Royce said, and something about his voice rubbed me the wrong way and gave me chills all the way down my spine. I didn't answer.

"Aw, what's the matter, girl? Why you actin' all stuck up and shit?" A fourth one asked me as he and the first two started towards me. I took a step back.

"I don't want any trouble," I said, my voice shaking.

"What? Oh, come on now girl, we won't bite 'cha. Ain't that right, boys?" Royce cackled as he finally came close enough to close his fist around my forearm and the rest of them joined in his laughter.

"Don't touch me, you son of a bitch!" I tried to snatch my arm back but he only squeezed tighter.

"Whoa, you're a mouthy little bitch, aren't 'cha?" the first one said as I tried to pull my arm back again, but Royce twisted my arm back and I yelped. Suddenly his other hand was on my stomach and another one's hands were touching my neck.

"Let go of me!" I cried, kicking my legs wildly and getting Royce in the groin. He howled and sank to the ground, cupping his hands around himself as he cried out in pain, but my victory was short lived as another grabbed me by the hair and yanked my face downward. I yelped again and I grabbed his wrist, trying to keep him from pulling my hair out.

"Oh, you gonna regret that, you stupid cunt!" He blew smoke in my face when he spoke and tears stung my eyes as I was tossed to another member of the group, and then I was slapped across the face at the precise spot that made my eye feel like it was going to explode. But just when I was expecting another slap or perhaps some groping to come, I heard the voice of my savior at last.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Emmett's voice boomed out, his voice deep and threatening. I looked up and saw him running towards the scene and suddenly I realized that I had never been more proud of his enormous bodybuilder's shape and his towering height. He was a sight to see, even silhouetted by the streetlight down the road.

"Emmett!" I cried and I ran to him, not surprised that I was released when the young men caught their first sight of him. I ran to him and he caught me in his strong, protective embrace and I began to sob against his naked chest.

He kissed my head and cradled me against his well-sculpted body, before turning back to the gang. "What the hell is going on here?" he repeated loudly and furiously.

"Hey, man, calm down, a'ight? We didn't know she belonged to anybody—"

"Oh yeah? Well now you assholes do, and if I ever see any of you out here again or if you ever so much as tip your fuckin' hats at her, I will make sure you don't have hands to tip your hats with! Got it?"

"Yeah, man. Whatever you say,"

"Dude, totally,"

"Whatever you say, man,"

They all answered in unison, Royce just nodding his head mutely as he still cupped himself, wincing in pain again. None of them were anything compared to my Emmett. He had a god three inches on the tallest of them and could probably lift more than double what they could. He was not someone to be messed with.

"Now get outta here!" Emmett ordered and they obeyed without another word, one of them helping Royce back up and quickly scurrying away. When they were finally gone, Emmett turned back to me, startled. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I nodded weakly, wiping the tears from my eyes and looking up at him. His eyes were wide and his brows were raised in concern. "I'm alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I promise. Just rattled, I guess…" I insisted, and I was.

"Oh, Rosalie. I'm so sorry… I should have just ignored the call and walked with you. I'm sorry,"

"No, I'm alright. I'm more scared than hurt, honest. I just want to forget it ever happened and go on with our weekend… Besides, I could tell it was an important call. Who was it?" I asked, hoping to change the subject. But it didn't completely erase the worry from his face.

"It was nothing," he said shortly.

"You're lying."

He sighed. "Yeah, you're right…" he paused before he said anything else. "It was something…" he said, deliberately vague. I frowned.

"Is everything alright?" I asked him, noting his sudden change of expression.

He sighed and wrapped his arm around my waist and we started walking to the beach, "It was my lawyer." He said coolly. "Vivian's lawyer said that they aren't accepting a settlement and she's refusing to go along with the divorce and if I tried to fight her in court, it's going to turn into a bloodbath and could take years to resolve." he said, his face screwed up as though the words left a foul taste in his mouth.

"Well," I said, trying to be supportive. "Perhaps she will change her mind. I mean, perhaps she'll find that a divorce really is what's best for you both and she'll come around." He shook his head and held me by both arms and looked down into my eyes. "He said something else too…"

"Tell me."

"Vivian is asking for a reconciliation, and my lawyer advised me it won't set too well with the courts if I refuse to at least try a reconciliation when my wife is asking for one."

I searched his face, consternation probably revealed on my own.

"Don't worry," he added quickly, "I love you. You're the only one I love, and I promise I won't go back to her. Not ever." He kissed my mouth, tenderly at first, then with growing ardor, his tongue wet and sleek upon mine.

"Oh, Rosy… I love you so much." His voice betrayed his torment. "I just want to be free so I can be with you."

"I know." This time it was my turn to comfort him, so I tenderly touched his face, tracing his eyebrows. "Someday."

"Someday," he repeated with an edge of impatience. "But when!"

"Shh…" I calmed him, kissed his soft mouth, and coerced him into forgetting, for a while. We had made it to the beach. "I love you, too. Let's make some new memories… here… under the stars." The moon cast our shadow onto the sand—one long spear against it as we drew close and became one unbroken line. He opened his mouth upon mine, drawing my hips flush to his, and he ran his hands down the slope of my spine, flaring out and catching my backside to force me up hard against him. I lifted on tiptoe, running my nails down along his skull, then down his naked shoulders. He captured my breasts beneath the white swimsuit top, caught me beneath the arms and lifted me skyward toward the stars, holding me suspended as he closed his mouth upon my right breast. I winced and he murmured, "I'm sorry… sorry… I get too impatient…" Softer, he opened his mouth upon me, wetting my skin and the deepest reaches within me. I put my throat to the sky and felt his arms quivering, and myself quivering, and the night air quivering all around us, and I thought to myself, _Don't let me lose him. Don't let her win_.

When I slid down his body, my hand led the way, skimming his chest and belly, then cupping him low.

"Come on," he whispered urgently, catching my hand and leading me further on down the beach, and around a large pile of driftwood where we were shielded from the silvery moonlight illuminating our faces with the pale phosphorescence and from being discovered by anyone who might come out to the beach for a late night stroll. Once settled back on the ground, he slipped one hand inside my suit bottoms and began caressing me intimately as my head lolled back in pleasure.

Reaching down, I stroked him through his swimming trunks, absorbing the rich smell of his warm skin and the brush of his hair as he lowered his face to the slope of my shoulder. A minor distance from the water, we made love on the cool sand, in a lunge and lift that matched the motion of the pliant night waves. Our passion was as consuming as always, but beneath its wonder was an underlying thread of sadness. Because he was still not mine, and nor I his, and this above all we both desired.

When it was over, he lay above me, his elbows braced on either side of my head. I studied his moon-shadowed face, what I could make out of it, and felt love inundate me once again with an immeasurable force. "Sometimes," I whispered, "isn't it hard to express it? In words powerful enough or meaningful enough?"

He reached her moonlit brow, touching her soft golden tresses upon the sand until they lay like a nimbus around her. He searched for ways he might express it, but he was not a man of words.

"I'm no Nicholas Sparks, so I'm afraid 'I love you' will have to do." He chuckled.

"And I love you." It was then that I noticed my feet were wet and I looked down, only to notice that what I was looking for was gone. "Um… Emmett?"

"Hm?"

"I think our clothes washed away with the tide,"

"What!" he jumped up and looked around, but all there was to find was a forgotten beach towel hanging on one of the limbs amongst the driftwood. He took it into his hands and looked down at it, then back over to me, and he laughed, his body shaking with laughter. I chuckled as well and we carefully made our way back to our hotel room, with nothing but the one beach towel and two huge grins between us.

**Author's Note: Well what do you think? I hope it wasn't too choppy, was it? I know, I just couldn't help but throwing Royce King in there. But I wanted to give Emmett the chance to defend her, also because I only like Rosalie to be a damsel in distress as long as Emmett is there to save her. What do you guys think?**


	11. Not Again

**Chapter 12: Not Again...**

The weeks flew by after that wonderful weekend at Pemaquid Beach and before I had even realized it, it was December. Of course Emmett came up as often as he could to visit Catherine and me, and I would occasionally drive down to Boston to see him, but despite how elated I was to be back again with him, the stress of trying to raise our daughter while living so far away, as well as my continued unemployment, was beginning to lag on my body. I was restless and often times even irritable. Once, I had even snapped at Catherine for the silliest of things, and I felt awful. My interrupted sleep left me feeling exhausted, sometimes ill, and even weak. And even though I had never been a snacker, I would occasionally find myself snacking thoughtlessly, but I took it to be a nervous reaction to the stress. But I gained five pounds.

My jeans became tight, my bras didn't fit right, and one day I realized the strangest thing: even my shoes didn't fit.

_My shoes?_

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I looked down at my feet in despair. They looked like a couple of overgrown potatoes. My anklebones didn't even show!

Something was wrong. I added it all up: fluid retention; irritability; fatigue; tender breasts; weight gain. A flash of terror tore through me. What if I was starting my change? Two of my mother's sisters had started theirs around their early thirties and I'd heard of strange cases of women even younger. What if this was early menopause? I would have considered the possibility that maybe I was pregnant, but that was impossible. If I were pregnant, my monthly flow would have stopped. But it hadn't. It clearly must be something else. So I made an appointment with a gynecologist in Portland.

Dr. Lucille Spencer's office was lilac, and the ceiling had been painted with a floral motif. I distracted myself with it, trying to name all the flowers that I could identify. Tulips, lilies, roses, and lilacs, I knew, but I was unsure of a couple others. The lighting was diffuse, illuminating the painted ceiling indirectly. The room did its job and made me feel much more at ease than I had been on the car ride over here.

Dr. Spencer completed her examination and lowered my paper gown, helping me to ease my legs down from the contraption that held them up.

I watched her roll her stool back over to the counter where she wrote something down in a manila folder. She could not have been more than five years older than me. She had a lovely, youthful face and mocha-colored skin, and kind, brown eyes. She glanced up and asked me, "When was your last period?"

"Three weeks ago," I answered confidently.

"And has there been any changes in your flow in the past couple of months?"

I paused, suddenly remembering the changes that had almost been too subtle to take note of. "Actually, not that you mention it, I guess they've been a little lighter than usual, and not quite as punctual as they've always been,"

"M-hmm… tell me, have you experienced any other signs of menopause that you may have overlooked? Any hot flashes or night sweats?"

"No."

"But your breasts have been tender?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"I don't know, a couple of months maybe… I don't remember exactly,"

"Have you noticed any frequent urination? Maybe been waking up at night to go to the restroom?"

"N-actually, yes. I guess around two or three times on average,"

"Is that normal for you?"

"No, I guess not."

"Have you been irritable? Depressed?"

"I suppose so, but I've been unable to find a job for a while, because I was let go in late-August."

Dr. Spencer nodded and turned around to face me completely. "Well, Ms. Hale, I'm quite certain that this is not menopausal as you'd feared," she smiled. "Quite the opposite, in fact. My best guess is that you are around twenty weeks pregnant."

Had she slugged me with a nine-pound hammer and knocked me to the floor, she could not have stunned me more. I couldn't speak for several seconds, but when I finally found my voice, I cried, "That's impossible!"

"You mean you have not had intercourse in the past five months?"

"Well, no—I mean, yes. I have, but I…"

"Did you use any precautions?"

"Yes, of course! I've been on the Pill and we used condoms until I was sure that it we were safe!"

"Well you realize, Ms. Hale, that Birth Control pills _do_ have a failure rate of 9% with typical use,"

"Yes, but I never forgot a pill! I always took it at 6:30 A.M. after I woke up my daughter for school. This can't happen again!" I ran my hands through my hair in despair. "Doctor, could there be anything else?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hale. I can take a look with the ultrasound to know for sure, but all the symptoms are there."

"No, please. You don't understand. This has already happened to me once; I had Catherine when I was twenty-two, barely out of college, and after my boyfriend had left me, this _cannot_ happen to me again! Is it possible you could be mistaken?" I pleaded.

"I'm afraid not. All the symptoms are there—the wall of your cervix is slightly bluish in color, the genitals are swollen, your breasts are enlarged and tender and the veins highly colored, you've been experiencing water retention, fatigue, increased urination, weight gain, and probably a number of other symptoms—such as heartburn, cramps, constipation, lower-back ache, leg cramps, and you're a bit more emotional than you normally are. Am I right?"

I recalled many of these symptoms and my outgrown clothes and shoes, the numerous late-night trips to the bathroom and the times I'd burst into tears for no apparent reason. I nodded glumly and lowered my tearful eyes down to my hands in my lap.

Dr. Spencer tolled her stool nearer and placed a sympathetic hand on my arm. "I take it from your signs of distress that you're single."

"Yes,"

"Well, I can understand that that complicates your situation."

"I already have a seven year-old, no husband, no job, and I'm facing losing the house if I can't make the house payments soon…" I sniffed and Dr. Spencer reached back to grab the tissue box off the counter and offered me a couple before placing it on the seat next to me, but I continued. "How can I handle everything with another baby to take care of?" I wiped my eyes with the tissue she'd given me as she patiently waited for me to gather myself up. When I'd finally calmed down, she said, "You realize, of course, that you're beyond the stage of fetal development where abortion is either safe or legal."

I shook my head. "Yes, I realize that. But it wouldn't have been an option for me anyway."

Dr. Spencer nodded. "And the baby's father—is he still around?"

I met her kind, brown eyes and dried my own. "He lives in Boston and there are… complications," I elected not to mention that he was married to a stubborn woman who refused to give him a divorce.

"I see, well I will advise you to tell him as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course, I'll tell him."

"And your daughter—how old did you say she is?"

"She just turned seven last month."

"I have twins that age," she smiled at me. "And if I know seven year olds, I'm sure she'll understand. In fact, she'll probably be excited to have a little brother or sister." She patted my arm encouragingly but I couldn't speak. So I just nodded as I listened to her instruct me to eliminate all alcohol and over-the-counter drugs that I might have been taking, she asked me whether or not I smoked and handed me a few sample bottles of prenatal vitamins. Then she went on to tell me to cut down on the use of salt and increase my take in of dairy products, and to start trying some moderate low-impact exercise like walking and finally to make an appointment for a return visit, which I did as I left the clinic.

I climbed into my car and started the engine, waiting for the hot air to start warming the interior of the van and a sudden wave of nausea struck me and the sensation brought the bewildering truck back with vicious ferocity: _you are pregnant_ again_!_ I scolded myself.

_So what are you going to do, Rosalie?_

_I'm going to tell Emmett._

_Do you really think he can get divorced and married to you before this baby is born? He didn't do it last time!_

_That isn't fair. He didn't know last time._

_Because _you_ didn't tell him about his own child!_

_Stop it! I have no idea how much different things are going to be this time around._

_You really think Vivian is going to let him go if she finds out you're pregnant with her husband's child?_

_I don't know… I don't know…_

Propelled with the hope that she might, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

**Author's Note: Hey y'all! Sorry it took so long to update and I'm sorry it's a little bit shorter than the others, but I've been debating about the whole pregnancy thing for a couple days. But now I have a much better direction of where this story is heading. So, while there's still twenty weeks left, anybody got any names or suggestions on whether the baby should be a girl or a boy? I'm open to hearing them! REVIEW PLEASE!**


	12. I Am Not Your Wife

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

**(Sorry, I had NO idea what to call this chapter, haha)**

I had never called Emmett at home before. Well, not since I'd learned he was married to an unkind, overbearing, jealous woman, but his cell number was suddenly no good and I didn't know what else to do. Dialing the phone that afternoon, I felt transparent, vulnerable, foolish even, like I was just asking for trouble. After the second ring, I realized that I didn't even know whether he was still living there and I prayed that Vivian wouldn't answer. But she did.

"Yeah?" she sounded grumpy, impatient, and I panicked and hung up.

It was then that I decided to email him instead, so I pulled out my old address book and headed into the back room to sit at the computer and pull up the Internet. Then I began to type.

To: emccarthy96 

From: rosehale83 

Subject: Need to talk!

Emmett,

I really need to talk to you ASAP. Please call me when you get this email. Love you.

Rose

I had only just tucked Catherine in for the night when the phone finally rang and I hurried downstairs to pick up the line in the laundry room so as not to wake her.

"Hello?" I said quietly.

"Rose?" he said, sounding surprised by my volume. "I'm sorry, I just got back from work and I wasn't sure if it was too late to call, since you said it was important,"

"No, you're fine. I… um, I just need to talk to you about something…" I bit my lip. "Is it possible for you to meet me somewhere this weekend? I'd rather not have to talk about it over the phone,"

"Uh, sure. Is everything alright?" he sounded concerned.

"I don't know." I said. My voice choked with the sob I'd been suspending.

"Oh, Rosy, please- please don't cry. I'll come up to meet you somewhere, wherever you want to meet."

"Actually, Catherine is going over to my mom's for the weekend again and I had been planning on coming down to Boston anyway so I can pick up Catherine's birthday present. So would you like to meet me by that shopping center where I used to work? What time will you get off work?"

"Uh, I can get off at two, tomorrow. Is that all right? I can be over there by two-thirty,"

"That would be great,"

"Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"Well, good night. I love you,"

"I love you, too, Emmett. Good night."

We had agreed to meet at_ The Shops at Prudential Center_ at two thirty Friday afternoon. It was snowing by the time I got our of my car in the parking lot and I had bundled myself up in my red wool trench coat, boots, and matching white scarf, hat and gloves. My cheeks and the tip of my nose were red as I marched through the wind and made my way to the door. Arriving at the place where we'd agreed to meet, I realized that I had arrived first as I had expected. I was still shivering when I found a vacant bench and sat down, pulling off my gloves and stuffing them into my coat pockets. I glanced at my watch, I was about five minutes early, so I sat down and rubbed my hands together, looking around as I waited.

I saw him at exactly two-thirty, dressed in a dark gray pea coat and leather gloves. He smiled when he saw me and started jogging over to me. I rose to greet him.

"Hey," I smiled.

"Hey," he dipped his head to steal a kiss and I giggled. "Did I keep you waiting long?" he inquired as we sat down together on the bench.

"No, you're right on time, actually. I got here a couple minutes early," I told him. He nodded as he pulled his gloves off and stowed them in his pockets. I felt good about it, about telling him. At least I thought I did, until I felt a couple tears betray me by falling. I sniffed and wiped them away.

Startled, he looked back over at me, eyes wide. "What's the matter?" he asked me, reaching to wrap his arm around my waist. I shook my head but he interjected, "Don't tell me it's nothing,"

I shook my head again. "No, it's not nothing. It's something…" he sniffed again. I could tell from the look on his face that my distress disturbed him, but I couldn't control myself. My body was betraying me by weeping on its own accord.

"What's wrong, Rose?" he repeated.

I resisted, keeping my face lowered, as if it could postpone my telling him. "Don't you e-ever wonder about the p-eople at these sh-shopping malls? You kn-know, why they always seem to be in su-such a h-hurry?" my voice choked a few times from the sobs that shook my body, but he didn't buy my distraction.

"What is it, Rosalie?"

I sighed and wiped my eyes once more before standing up and pacing away a few feet, my back to him for a few seconds, before I finally turned around to face him completely and I said as clearly as I could. "I'm p-regnant."

I had shocked him, I could tell. He didn't speak at first, his eyes drifting toward to the floor and I watched the color drain from his face.

"Oh, my God," he muttered, his eyes flashed up to my stomach and then back up to my eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I went to the doctor on Wednesday and she confirmed it."

He swallowed. "When?"

"She said I was about twenty weeks along."

"Twenty—isn't that about halfway through the pregnancy?"

I nodded.

"So there's no chance of it being a mistake? Or… of losing it?"

"No," I shook my head.

A huge dimpled grin broke out across his face and he jumped up and took me in his arms. "Rose, that's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Do you hear that? We're having a baby!" he cried to the ceiling. A couple of people passing by us applauded and my face colored in humiliation.

"Emmett! This is _not_ wonderful." I whispered urgently, trying to quiet him. "Need I remind you that you are married to another woman who refuses to give you a divorce and I'm _already_ the single mother or your first daughter? This isn't wonderful at all, Emmett, this is awful."

"Not for long, I promise, Rosy baby; no more dragging my feet over this divorce. I'll have her off like an old pair of boots in no time! Jesus, Rose, how can you not be happy?"

"Because _I_ am the unmarried one here, remember?"

"Not for long," he said excitedly, grabbing both my hands and holding them between his own as he dropped down onto one knee and beamed up at me. "Rosalie, will you marry me?"

Fresh tears fell from my eyes and I choked out a sob. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for you to say that?"

"I'll take that as a yes!" he cheered, jumping back up to his feet and picking me up and spinning me around and around. "Now, we've got to make plans…" he said as he set me down, his face lit up like a child on Christmas. "We've got to get a nursery set up and get all the baby stuff, diapers, clothes, food, the works. Oh, and of course we'll have to take those weird breathing classes, what are those called?"

"Lamaze."

"Lamaze, yeah. Boy, just wait'll I tell the guys at the office. Jim'll sure be surprised! Rosy, do you think there's enough room at your house for the baby to have his own room? Because I wouldn't want to have to put him in with Catherine when she's got school and everything, and I don't think there'd be enough space in your room for a crib and a changing table and everything. I mean, we could try rearranging the furniture, I guess. Or do you have a playroom or something that we could convert into a—"

"Emmett, stop." I touched his arm to hush him and said, "Listen to me,"

"What?" he remained as still and unmoving as the bench we'd just been sitting on as I spoke calmly and gently.

"Sweetheart, I love you, but you seem to be forgetting that I am not your wife. That honor," I stated pointedly. "Belongs to Vivian. You can't just run all around town screaming hallelujah as loud as you can as if we were married. It would be an embarrassment to her, don't you see? And to our families as well. I have a daughter to consider, and she has friends, and they all have parents with their own opinions, and we live in a small town. I understand that you're happy about this, and I'm glad, but I have a few reservations about the whole situation."

Emmett sobered and his shoulders drooped slightly. "You don't want it."

"Oh, Emmett… how can I explain this to you so you'll understand? Wanting it isn't the problem. It's already here-" I said, placing both hands on my stomach. "And it's already half-term which appears to be much further along than your divorce. And it would be a huge interruption in my own life. I don't have a job and if I can't find one and make the house payments soon, than I'm going to lose the house. And I'll be called a homewrecker, too, and people will blame me for splitting you and Vivian up. If I need some time to adjust to all of these things than I need you to be supportive of my decision."

"You don't want it," he repeated, decimated.

"Not with the unconfounded joy that you do, yet… _That_ I'm afraid is going to take a little time."

His face hardened suddenly and he stuck his finger in my face and said, "If you do anything to get rid of this baby than it'll kill me, too, Rosalie. Do you understand?"

"Oh, Emmett," I lamented, drooping. "How could you even think such a thing of me?"

He turned away from me and walked over to the wall, eyes closed, and he didn't move for several seconds. Until he suddenly slammed his fist into the painted-cinderblock wall and then leaned his forehead against it.

I moved to go stand behind him and I wrapped my arms around his middle and leaned into his back.

"Emmett, we created this baby out of love," I said quietly. "And I will love it, I promise. It is still my baby. But I've already gone through this with Catherine and bringing another baby into the world out of wedlock is less than it deserves. Because I know that people look at her differently than they do the other children. I learned to get over them looking at me that way a long time ago, but it still bothers me when they look that way at my daughter. Don't you see? _That_ is what I'm unhappy about. And because I have reason to believe that Vivian is going to do everything in her power to keep us unmarried long after this baby is born."

"You're right," he said softly, lifting his head and turning back around to wrap his arms around me and hold me tightly. "I'm going to talk to her this weekend; tell her that a reconciliation is out of the question. I'll talk to my lawyer again and make sure that he gets this thing going." I nodded and he kissed me gently, but I suddenly realized just how prosaic our situation was and how classic his response seemed on the surface: a married man stringing his mistress along while keeping her pacified with promises of divorce. But I had never accused him of lagging, never insisted, or demanded. I just hoped he knew that.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I should have done it before."

"Yes… well, how could we know this would happen?"

He hesitated before he spoke again. "How _did_ it happen?"

I sighed and shook my head. "I thought we were safe. I'd gotten back on my Birth Control pills and we'd used other precautions for the designated timeframe before the hormones started to work, and an extra week afterwards… I don't know how it could have happened because I took my pill every single morning at six-thirty." I sighed and looked down at the floor, pulling back from him. "When the doctor told me that I was four and a half months pregnant, I felt…" I sniffed again. "I felt _stupid_! Coming up pregnant, unplanned, _again_," I turned away in chagrin. I heard him sigh.

"You really don't want it, do you, Rose?"

I sighed, exasperated. "It would be so different if we were married, Emmett,"

He nodded and said, "I promise I'll talk to Vivian."

"Don't tell her about the baby. Please. I'd rather her not know,"

"No, I won't, but I need to tell somebody. Would you mind if I talked to Jim? I've known the guy for years and he'd never tell a soul."

I shook my head. "No, that's fine. I'll have to tell my family soon anyway…" I dreaded telling my mother that I was pregnant by the same man again. I still lived with the guilt that the shock of my first unplanned pregnancy had contributed to my father's death. My mother would be disappointed. I knew it.

"Rose, come here," he held his arms open for me and smiled gently. With a small cry that caught in my throat, I flew to him and threw my arms around his neck and I kissed him. And once we parted, he promised me again that he would talk to Vivian and he told me not to worry, but his words just jumbled around in my brain. I couldn't concentrate because I was too busy wondering how much different my life could have been if I'd have told him I'd been pregnant the first time.

**Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm so sorry it's been a little while but school started back on Monday and transferring colleges is a hectic business! I'll be writing as often as possible but it may be a little bit longer between updates, what with all my schoolwork and everything. So what did y'all think of the chapter? I still haven't heard from a lot of you and I'd love to hear what you think of my story. Please review! Hearing from y'all is what keeps me inspired and motivated to keep writing! **


	13. Vivian

**Chapter 13: Vivian**

Seven Years Ago

I awoke with a start around 4:45 A.M. on November 6th with a strong knotting sensation in my abdomen that made me nauseous. I held my stomach and lay absolutely still and prayed that it would pass. I was three weeks early. My eyes still hurt from crying all night long before I'd at last fallen into an exhausted sleep. It had been a week since the funeral and I was still a wreck. _It must be the stress and the grief_, I told myself. _It's jumpstarting my labor! Dear God, please keep my baby safe… don't let anything happen to her!_ Tears welled in the corners of my eyes and I hissed in pain.

I looked around my childhood room; the walls were still covered with the same pink rose wallpaper that had decorated my own nursery, the same white lace curtains hung on the windows, the same artwork and all the stuffed animals I'd collected over the years all cluttered the shelf above my bed. All that had changed was a new crib had been bought and my old desk had been moved out to make room for a changing table and a new bookshelf that was cluttered of baby stuff. But I hadn't even gotten the crib made up yet. The sheets and blankets lay folded on the mattress. Baby clothes were still in bags. I wasn't ready yet! But I knew the baby was coming because my own bed sheets were wet and the room smelled faintly of blood. I threw off the blankets and looked down at myself. To my horror, there was bloody fluid all over me, making my nightgown feel wet and sticky.

When the pain subsided, I turned on the lamp on my bedside table and grabbed my watch, watching the minute hand. Then I waited. And despite everything, I missed Emmett.

I'd been dreaming of him before I'd awoken. I'd dreamed that he'd married me and that we lived in a small house in Boston together. We had laughed together in between contractions at my clumsiness as he'd carefully walked me to the car with my suitcase under his arm, running red lights and speeding the entire way to the hospital. His face was the last thing I'd seen before going into the delivery room and the first one I'd seen in the recovery room. What a wonderful dream it had been.

But he wasn't here; all I had left was my mother. And I called to her as another contraction struck me about seven minutes later.

I never would have thought that I could love my mother more than I already did, but my heart swelled with affection for her over the next couple hours. She was magnificent. She was everything she'd always been that I'd often taken for granted. She was everything I needed her to be. She was quick but efficient as she helped me into the paper gown at the hospital, calm and reassuring whenever a contraction would come, she rubbed my back when the pain became almost unbearable, she was strong when I needed her to be, and offered a joke when I needed a reprieve. She'd been through this eight times with nine children, and she knew exactly what I needed.

"Do you remember when I was pregnant with Abel?" she asked me, I looked up at her with wide eyes. She never talked about Abel. Ever. And we'd learned after a while to be careful about ever mentioning him or the twins because it always distressed her. But she spoke so calmly now.

"Only vaguely," I shrugged.

"Well, you were only three years old. But you'd been telling your Sunday-School teacher all about your new baby brother or sister, oh, probably for a few weeks. You were so excited, you just wanted to tell everyone." She smiled fondly and went on. "Anyway, one day I finally let you feel my stomach—it was right around the time he'd started kicking and I wasn't showing a _whole_ lot, but after that, you stopped telling your teacher about it." She chuckled. "She told me all about this later, but she pulled you onto her lap one day and she asked you why you'd stopped talking about that new baby we were expecting. And do you remember what you said?"

I shook my head. I had no memory of any of this.

"She said that you burst into tears and you cried, 'I think my mommy ate it!'" My mother laughed and I did too.

"Oh, Mama. You made that up," I said, unable to stop smiling.

"I did not. I swear upon this grandbaby." She smiled, laying her hands on my stomach tenderly. I laughed again but then another contraction came and she grasped my hands and coached me.

"Don't push yet, baby doll. Just breathe short and hold those muscles tight… that's it, just a little longer… you're almost there…" she said reassuringly as she held my hands tightly and watched the baby monitor. After a few more seconds, she smiled and said, "You did it."

"Mama," I said, grateful but weary. "I'm sorry you have to see this, I know it can't be easy for you—"

"Don't be ridiculous. This is the most excitement I've had in a long time. Now, you just concentrate on taking care of my grandbaby and I'll be here as long as you need me to be." She said as she reassuringly stroked my hair.

It was a long labor; my water had broken around 4:30 or 4:45 A.M. but I hadn't even started pushing until after midnight. On the delivery table, I cried out in pain and soon felt weak with the effort of pushing the baby from my body, but, as promised, my mother never left my side.

I screamed before the doctor had a chance to tell me that the baby's head was crowning and my mother wiped my brow with a damp cloth and encouraged, "One more, honey. You're doing fine," and with one last push, in a haze, I became a mother, my own mother excitedly telling me it was a girl and the doctor's rushing to cut the umbilical chord to hurry the baby away from me to check for any signs of underdevelopment. All the way, I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I never even heard her cries before everything went black.

The Present

It was just starting to get dark by the time Vivian returned home. She had driven the boys over to her parents' house for the night. Emmett saw her pull in the driveway through the front window and he stood and headed outside to meet her at the garage. The garage door was old-fashioned and a son of a bitch to move, so she'd usually leave it open for him to take care of whenever he got to it. That was just one of the many things that he'd wanted her to change. Sometimes it would be a few hours before he would get there to close the door and they had had items stolen from the garage three or four times in the ten years they'd lived here, still she refused to close the door by herself. Probably because the items that had been stolen were never hers; it was usually tools or equipment of some sort, and once an antique chair that had belonged to Emmett's mother that he had been refinishing. All of those things, Vivian could do without. She hated antiques, and if anything ever broke she'd just as soon call a repairman than ask Emmett to fix it.

She climbed out of the car with her pocketbook in hand but jumped when she saw him there, startled.

"You scared me," she said, unsmiling.

"Sorry,"

"What are you doing out here?"

"What? I can't come out to close the garage door for my wife?" she did not smile and neither did he, but their gazes remained locked as he reached up for the handle on the garage door and waited for her to come out before slamming the damn thing shut.

Alarmed, Vivian watched him. Something was bothering him. Something serious. "What's wrong?" she asked him as he turned to follow her back to the house.

"Nothing. I'm just tired."

_It's more_. She thought as a sudden urge of panic welled up within her._ It's a woman. _The truth struck her like a landslide. She added all the little changes up in her head—how distracted he had become in the last few months, the uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm and his quietness; his sudden aversion to touching her or being with her intimately.

_Do something!_ She thought in a panic.

"Sweetheart, I've been thinking about something," she said coyly as she followed him through the door and into the kitchen where she set her pocketbook on the kitchen table. "What would you say to maybe going on that second honeymoon we used to talk about all the time, you know? We could leave the boys with Mom and Dad and just get away for the week. We could go on a cruise, or maybe fly out to Washington, I don't know. You could take off work and I could make all the arrangements," she said sweetly as she moved closer to him and snaked her arms around his middle and stretched up to kiss his cheek and hoping that that she said what he wanted to hear. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

He shrugged. "I can't take a week off work. It's busy season,"

"Oh, come on, Emmett. It's always busy season. You can take one little week off every once in a while."

"I can't use up all my sick days at once to go on a vacation."

"Well then, why don't we just go somewhere for a weekend, then? You don't work weekends usually."

"Conventions and meetings are held on weekends."

"Then why don't you take me with you to one?"

He sighed and freed himself from her embrace and went to the dishwasher to unload the clean dishes, suddenly remembering that Rosalie's dishwasher had broken again and wondering if perhaps he should get her a new one for Christmas. But then he remembered his wife, standing right behind him and suddenly felt shaken and apprehensive because he knew that leaving her was the right thing to do and he dreaded the next hour with her.

"I can't do that either, Vivian." This angered her.

"I'm trying, Emmett, I really am. But I don't know what else I can do, you're never happy!"

He turned back to face her, still holding a glass in his hand. "What do you want me to do?" he demanded.

"Well, for starters I'd appreciate it if you would at least act like my husband!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Husbands don't turn their wives away every single night month after month! It almost makes me feel like you don't even love me anymore," she said as a couple of tears began to fell from her eyes. Emmett gulped. His biggest weakness was watching a woman cry. He couldn't stand it.

"Vivian, please don't cry—"

"Sometimes I even think that the only reason you married me was because I got pregnant and you wouldn't have wanted to if I hadn't," she sobbed, turning away from him and going after a tissue box in the powder room, plucking a couple from it and holding them to her eyes as she headed back into the kitchen slowly, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

"Vivian—"

"And as if it's not bad enough that you spend every other weekend away from home for your job, you haven't come to me for anything like you used to. You don't tell me anything, you just get up and leave sometimes, you don't even look at me the same anymore, what am I supposed to think?"

He reached a hand behind her neck and pulled her face against his neck. She felt the heat of her face centered now in her eyes and more tears fell.

"Please don't cry over me, Vivian."

"Aren't I good enough anymore?" she wept and he sighed, pulling her roughly against him and put his arms clear around her shoulders which shook with emotion.

"Jesus, Vivian, don't do this to yourself."

Then, to comfort her, he lowered his mouth to hers. And as he always could, he made her body surge with desire. She opened her mouth without thinking, and in that slackening movement he lost himself. Her arms clung to his neck, driven by the fear of losing a man she had captured in her early twenties and of being unable to capture another one in her mid thirties.

She pushed the length of her body flush against his and she could feel what the kiss had started. Once of Emmett's hands left her shoulders and curled around her waist, pulling her even closer and he made a groaning sound of defeat while his body betrayed him and he betrayed the woman he truly loved.

**Author's Note: Hey everyone. Now, before you get too mad at me, don't worry. Everything is going to work out in the end, I promise. But come on… let me hear what you think. I'm sure I've just pissed off a few of my readers, right? Well I want to hear from everyone. Good or bad, review please!**


	14. Christmas in Purgatory

**Chapter 14: Christmas in Purgatory**

**December 23**

Ever since that night when she had tried to seduce the thoughts of separation from his mind, Vivian had had little rest. He had left after that, claiming he'd be staying over at Jim's, but Vivian couldn't help but wonder if he was really off somewhere with another woman. She hated the little house they lived in. He'd bought it before they'd been married and she'd turned it from his bachelor pad into the best she could manage. He'd promised her that it was only temporary and that they would find a nicer place once he got established with his job. But that had been over ten years ago. Was she wrong for wanting something better? When he was here, she found it almost tolerable. There was someone to close the garage door for her and to offer to carry her grocery bags inside for her, someone to keep the bed warm and to go out in the morning when it was cold to get the paper for her. But now that he was gone, she found it disgusting. She'd contacted a lawyer who had advised her to stay in the house for legal purposes and to do anything else would have meant a disruption in her life that she didn't need. Besides, she couldn't afford anything else on her own.

Inside, the kitchen smelled stuffy; the same stack of junk mail lay where she'd left it on the counter, crumbs from the boys' breakfast were left on the table. The lights weren't on and the house was cold. But she found a note on the table from him that said: _Vivian, we need to talk. I'll call you at 6:30 tomorrow night._

Smiling, she flew up the stairs to find her most flattering outfit. Okay, so he hadn't bought her the nice apartment in the South End that she wanted, but she missed him and she wanted him back. She wanted someone to open the garage door, to cook for, to take care of servicing her car when it needed it and mowing the lawn and to make coffee for in the mornings. And when she slipped into bed, someone to reaffirm that she was desirable.

Once in her bedroom, she stripped off her simple jeans and blouse and she sat down at her vanity and studied her face. She reapplied her mascara and touched up on the foundation, powder, and rouge. She pulled her hair out of the twist-tie and brushed it, spritzing her wrists and throat with the scent that she hadn't worn since they'd first been married.

Then she stepped back and examined her reflection in the mirror, stripping off the nude bra and panties and letting them drop to the floor. She ran her hands over her stomach—she'd kept it mostly flat since her two pregnancies but she despaired over the one thin stretch mark that ran down from her naval to her lower abdomen and intersected with the scar from the emergency C-section that had cost her their firstborn. Touching the discolored skin, she felt a sharp pang in her chest. Emmett still didn't know about the boys… but she had decided years ago that he would never know. But he wouldn't understand anyway. She had been so upset when halfway through her second trimester the doctors had to remove the fetus that had died inside of her and he had been in San Francesco at some stupid convention for two weeks, all that was there to comfort her was Sam Godfrey.

It wasn't that she loved Sam; he was just a freckle-faced man who was always kind to her and was there to comfort her when she'd lost her baby; the baby who was the only reason that Emmett had married her in the first place. If he had known that she'd lost that baby, then she would have lost him too.

With the guilt of her betrayal on her mind, she dressed in a dark blue dress that synched in her waist and was cut lower in the front than she wore most of the time and brushed her hair once again. Tomorrow was too long to wait.

Jim's House

Vivian looked around in distaste as she waited for someone to answer her knock. If there was a place that she hated worse than her own house, it was Jim's. His wife Laura was too frail to do much gardening and had to spend most of her time indoors. Sure the lawn was mowed but the grass was brown even in the summer time and there were weeds coming out of the flowerbeds. The house always smelled of burnt meals because Jim had to do most of the cooking the past couple years since Laura's condition had gotten worse.

The daughter answered the knock. Hillary was ten years old and had been adopted as a baby from some orphanage in Connecticut and Vivian plastered a faux smile on her face as she greeted the girl.

"Why, Hillary. It's so nice to see you," she said through her teeth. In her opinion, the girl was a little on the ugly side. She was a scrawny little thing with dishwater-blonde hair and pale skin. "I'm looking for my husband, Mr. McCarthy, is he here?"

She didn't smile. "Uncle Emmett's out in the back with Daddy," I found her usage of such a nickname to be inappropriate. We were not family to these people, but by the way Emmett behaved around here, you'd think we were.

"Well, I'll just go on out and see them then, would that be okay, honey?" she nodded, unsmiling and she stepped back to let me in. I tried not to sneer at the poor housekeeping as she led me through the house. The place had not been dusted in God knows how long and the kitchen cabinets could use a good scrubbing. I could hear coughing coming from the master bedroom but I didn't dare look in as I passed thinking that I might see the poor woman that lay ill inside. Hillary led me into the kitchen where a snoozing German shepherd blocked the backdoor. The beast woke up, saw me and snapped at me, but Hillary grabbed its collar and motioned for me to go outside on my own.

I eased past the girl and the snarling dog and out into the poorly maintained backyard, where I saw the light on in the separate garage. I crossed the small patio and was coming up on the old garage but I stopped when I could hear voices from inside. One of them I recognized at once as Emmett's. I stopped within a few feet of the door and listened.

"Well, she's not exactly thrilled," said Emmett.

"So what, she doesn't want it?" asked Jim.

"I don't think she's ready for the interruption in her life,"

"Well, I didn't really want the interruption of my wife getting cancer, but we're getting by. So what's so wrong with a baby?"

"It's different with Rose, Jim. She lost her job a few months ago and is faced with losing the house and she's already got Catherine,"

"Oh yeah, how is the little Kitten?"

"Ah, jeez, you oughta see her, man. Rose says she's acting more and more like me every day,"

"Yeah… it's still hard to believe you've got a daughter… and maybe another one on the way!"

"Yeah, it's kinda hard for me to take in, too."

"When's the baby due?"

"Somewhere around the end of April, I think."

"Damn… have you told Vivian yet?"

Emmett sighed. "No, but I'm going to talk to her tomorrow. And tell her it's over,"

Vivian had heard enough, she felt wounded. In the cold her cheeks flushed and her heart raced. The snow continued to fall and she hugged her heavy coat tighter around herself.

He'd made another woman pregnant.

Decimated, she dropped her forehead to her knuckles and felt the blood rush to her extremities. She felt fear, shock, and anger, but she wasn't sure which one emotion was the most dominant.

_How dare you do this to me, Emmett! I am your wife!_ The tears came, burning tears of humiliation. _Damn you, McCarthy! I hope your fucking jeep crashes and leaves her with your bastards!_ She sobbed quietly for a while, blocking out the sound of their voices with her hands pressed hard into her ears.

When her tears began to slow, she sat staring at the service door into the garage, the light spewing from it and the snow still falling all around when she suddenly thought of a plan to get him back. Carefully she dried her eyes on a tissue she'd stuffed into her pocketbook, blew her nose and checked her reflection in a little pocket mirror. Then she found an eyeliner wand inside her purse and she did a quick repair job, then she turned, took a deep breath, and headed into the garage.

"Emmett!" she beamed, approaching the two men who stood under the open hood of an old car, examining the engine. "Hello darling, I found your note."

"Vivian," he said coolly, unwelcoming. "I said I would call you tomorrow."

"I know, but I wanted to see you. I have something important to tell you," she said smiling happily. She quickly nodded at the other man in the garage who she'd almost ignored. "Nice to see you again, Jim."

He merely nodded sharply at her, then turned to Emmett and said, "I'm gonna go check on Laura," and he ducked out of the garage, leaving the Emmett alone with his wife in silence.

"What do you want, Vivian?" he asked as he wiped his hands on his dirty, grease-stained overalls, not smiling at her.

"Can't you come home and we can talk about this, dear? In our own bed?" she rested a hand on his chest but he moved away from her touch.

"No, Vivian. I'm not interested. All I want from you is a divorce."

"Well," she said, stung but keeping her smile. "You'll feel differently when you hear what I have to say,"

"What?" he snapped.

"It's going to make you very happy,"

"Is it a court date?"

"No, silly," she laughed, forcing the sound from her throat and she touched his arm. For a brief instant, she wasn't sure. She wanted the satisfaction of feeling the shock strike him, but what she was doing was unforgivable. But what he'd done was, too.

"I'm pregnant, Emmett."

The shock hit Emmett like high voltage and he sucked in a sharp breath as he stared wide-eyed at her.

"I don't believe you,"

"Well, believe it. We're going to have another baby, darling, some time around Labor Day."

He did a quick calculation: the night he'd betrayed Rosalie.

"You'd better not be lying, Vivian, or I swear I'll—"

"Would I lie about something like this?"

Speechless, Emmett shook his head in disbelief. "This is impossible… not now…"

"Not now?" Vivian repeated. "I thought you'd be happy, Emmett? I thought… I thought…" she conjured up a few tears which prompted the response she'd been looking for. He reached over and took her hand and looked down at it, sadly.

"I'm sorry, Vivian. I'll… I'll go in and get my things… I'll come back home…"

"Oh, Emmett!" she threw her arms around his neck and held on tight, feeling a twinge of regret. "I almost thought you'd stopped loving me, Emmett," it was the first thing she'd said that was completely truthful. But she received no answer. Instead, he stepped back from her and said heavily, hanging his head,

"Go home, Vivian. I'll be there soon." And as she watched him turn back to the car engine and sit down on the bumper, she thought to herself: _What have I done? The moment he finds out the truth, I'll lose him forever…_

Once Vivian was gone, Emmett hung his head in despair. How would he ever tell Rosalie? The grief dug into his heart and made him feel ill. Obligation pulled with a gravity as powerful as the earth's. To abandon his wife now would be the height of callousness and he was not a callous man. But there was no way that he would be able to stay with both of them and still end up. This was some Christmas surprise. He turned forlornly and shuffled back up to the house to pack up his things and face his purgatory.

Christmas Eve at Rose's

My second pregnancy was proving to be a slightly more difficult one than my first. Often I would wake up with a backache or cramps that crippled me and left me unable to crawl out of bed and I had gained thirty pounds by Christmas Eve. My mother, though not thrilled by my situation, had agreed to do her best to help me and had decided to bring Lucy over for a week while I put the house on the market and started to get everything settled with my pregnancy.

I had gone in for an ultrasound yesterday to find out the sex of the baby and received the shock of my life on the monitor.

"Congratulations, Ms. Hale, you're having twins." Dr. Spencer said happily as she moved the dial across the goo she'd spread on my stomach.

"Ha, ha, very funny." I didn't believe her, but she turned the screen around to face me and there, as clear as day, I could make out the outline of two fetuses on the monitor.

"See for yourself. It looks like you're having a boy and a girl; one of each,"

So today, I was going to tell Emmett what I had learned and I hoped he would understand. I was still trying to get my head around it myself. I was expecting him around four o'clock for dinner, I was planning on introducing him to my mother, Lucy, and those of my siblings that were coming for the holidays.

But he arrived just a little after two o'clock and was asking me to come somewhere private with him where we could talk.

"Emmett, my mother and sister are both over here and Adam and Nancy are going to be here any minute and Caleb's coming in and Andrew is flying in from Paris and I've got to get ready—"

"It'll only take a minute." He insisted. "Please." He looked desperate about something and I sighed, looking up at him and I relented.

"Alright fine." I looked back to my mother who was watching curiously from the kitchen doorway, her arms folded across her chest as she looked disapprovingly at Emmett. "I'll be back in a couple minutes, Mama." I said and she nodded unhappily. I wrapped myself up in my heavy winter coat, scarf, hat and gloves and pulled in my rubber boots before following Emmett out the door to his jeep where we could talk without the risk of my mother overhearing.

Once we'd slammed the doors, we sat there in silence, already shivering and staring straight ahead out the windshield. He finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I should have called,"

"Yes, you should have."

"I didn't think about you being all that busy,"

"It's Christmas Even and I wasn't expecting you for another two hours. Of course I've got people coming over."

"I am sorry."

"It's alright." I said. "So what's wrong?"

"Can we go somewhere? Like just down the road a ways? I need to talk to you."

When I laughed, the sound was tense. "Clearly." But glancing back at the house, I caught sight of my mother peeking out from behind the curtains in the front room and I sighed and shook my head. "I shouldn't leave. Mother's already unhappy enough as it is, no use in giving her any more initiative."

"Please, Rosalie," he said, his voice as close to desperate as I'd heard it. "I wouldn't have come early if it wasn't really important."

I sighed, and relented. "Fine. But we can't go far. I've only got a minute."

"A minute's all I need," he said somberly.

We went to the park just half a mile down the road and we watched the snow piling up. We just sat there for a while in complete silence. I watched two children playing in the snow in the distant field, building a snowman by the looks of it and I smiled at the prospect of Catherine having a little brother and sister to play with, and a father to complete the picture. But when he spoke, his voice sounded so forlorn and miserable that I knew something was seriously wrong.

"Rose?"

"Something bad's happened, hasn't it?"

He sighed and leaned over the center console, "Come here," he said as he took me in his arms and took a deep, shaky breath. "Yes, it's bad…"

"Well, what is it?"

"It's worse than the worst you could ever imagine."

"Tell me."

He drew back and looked deep into my eyes, his own were sincere and apologetic.

"Vivian is pregnant."

Silence. Shock. Disbelief. Denial. "Oh, my God," I whispered, pulling further away from him and bringing my gloved hands to my lips, my eyes drifting away from him but not focusing on anything. "Oh, my God…" I repeated even softer.

My eyes closed and my brow furrowed, my fingers pressing harder and harder against my lips until I tasted blood and I began to shake with something that wasn't the cold.

"Rosalie… baby… I am so sorry,"

I might as well have been in a wind tunnel for all I could hear. Oh, I was a fool. I had believed him without a question or a demand. I'd believed he loved me and had changed and was divorcing his wife. I had been so wrong. But I'd been so certain and I had trusted him so completely. Oh, what a fool I'd been! Played in the hands of a man who was typical after all.

Now he was leaving me for his wife. Again. Almost five months pregnant by him this time.

But I did not cry. I refused to cry in front of him. I refused to be the weak one again.

"Please take me home now."

"Rosy, don't do this. Please, we can figure something out—"

"I said take me home, God damn it!" I snapped. But he didn't move. "Your mind's clearly made up, well, so is mine now. So take me _home_!"

"Not until you—"

"You son of a bitch!" I screamed as I swung and struck him across the cheek. Hard. "How _dare _you make ultimatums to me! As if you have any right over me after this,"

"Rosalie, listen to me. It was a mistake. I didn't want her to get pregnant, it… it just—"

"Don't you dare tell me it_ just happened_, Emmett!" I cried. "You had to have slept with her to get her pregnant. And what makes you so sure that this one's yours anyway? If the other two weren't, why should _this_ one be?"

"Because I _did_ sleep with her," he said, shamefully, holding his head in his hands in despair. "I don't know… I had brought the papers for her to sign but she started crying and I just felt awful and… I don't know why it happened, but it did and I've felt sick over it for a long time,"

I threw open the door and hurled myself out of the jeep, almost slipping on the icy pavement in my rush to get away from him, but catching myself in a kneeling position before falling flat on my face and getting my knees wet. Icy water seeped through my jeans and the chill bit my skin, but I ignored it and marched on across the small parking lot in the direction of my house.

His door slammed and he skidded around the jeep and grabbed my arm, fluffy white snowflakes sticking to his coat, his hair, and his eyelashes even.

"Hold on, Rosalie. No, I may be a damn moron, but that is my baby and I want to be its father. And Catherine's too!" he cried.

"Fuck you!" I snarled, snatching my arm back. "Go back to your precious _Vivian_!"

"Goddamn it, Rosalie. Will you stop and just talk to me?"

I ignored him and kept on across the lot. He cursed again and then I heard him run back to the jeep and start the engine. He tore out of the parking spot and pulled up by my side.

"Get in the jeep." I flipped him off without looking at him. "Get in the damn jeep, Rosalie!"

"Go to hell, McCarthy!" I snarled. He hit the accelerator by mistake, meaning to break and the jeep squealed forward before he fishtailed it and changed directions with a grinding shift that dropped the engine, silencing it for good. The starter whined about half a dozen times but to no avail and I passed the broken down jeep, smirking. I strode on, finally reaching the end of the parking lot, looking down the street both ways when his door slammed.

"You goddamn stubborn, pain-in-the-ass _woman!_" he raged.

Without looking behind me, I held up my middle finger as I crossed the street and trudged back the half mile through the snow back to the house.

**Author's Note: I know, I know… things are all pretty screwed up now, but hey, things have gotta get bad before they can get any better. Otherwise the story would be boring. Anyway, how do y'all feel about Vivian now? I tried to give you a little peek into her mind and explain her thought process and all. Also to confirm that the boys are not actually Emmett's as the previous chapter may have lead some of you to believe. Also, I would like to thank jessa76, you are my best reviewer and I really appreciate your commentary. Reading your reviews usually puts a smile on my face. :) I hope to hear from the rest of you soon (and you too, Jessa76).**


	15. April in the Baker's Shop

**Chapter 15: April in the Baker's Shop**

Anybody could tell you that I have a stubborn streak longer than the New England coastline. I had made up my mind as I trudged through the half mile of snow and ice back to my house that I was going to do this on my own without the help of Emmett McCarthy. I altered my expectations to exclude a husband and father for my children and I prepared to break the news to my mother and Catherine. But as I headed down the road, my mind raced.

What did one person truly know of another's intentions? As I walked, I analyzed our relationship and realized that he may have been amusing himself with me all alone, without the slightest notion of leaving his wife. And the story about the two boys not being his—was that false, too? She _was_ pregnant now and there didn't seem to be any doubt about this one being his.

Once I reached the house, I sat down on the wicker couch on the porch and I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cushions, feeling used and betrayed. What did it matter anyway? The affair is over. Absolutely. I had marched away peremptorily in the snow and the freezing rain and had ignored the eight missed calls and the two-dozen texts from him in the forty-five minutes it took her to get home. But I could not fool myself; my aloofness was a sham. I did still love him and I knew I was going to miss him, and I wanted to believe that he had not lied.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, I wondered to myself, _how does one fall out of love?_ The longer I went without seeing or hearing from Emmett, the more I longed for him. I waited for the withering like a farmer waits during a drought, watching his crops struggling and thinking just get it over with and die already. But like weeds that can survive without nourishment, my love for Emmett refused to wither.

February passed and Catherine and I moved out of the house and in with my mother, without a word from Emmett. I wondered how he and Vivian were fairing and what he had gotten her for Christmas and if they were going to decide to find out the sex of the baby when the time came or let it be a surprise.

April came and Lincoln County bloomed with all the radiance of an early spring—the trees were budding and the flowers were just beginning to sprout up from the ground. New life was all around me in the month I was due to deliver… but not for everyone. An old friend from Boston who I'd kept in touch with called me one day while Catherine was at her new school to deliver some news that spin my emotional barometer.

"Vivian McCarthy had a miscarriage."

I sucked in a breath and felt my heart whip into overdrive. "What?"

It had happened last week while Emmett was in Chicago. But she also told me that they were planning a second honeymoon trip to Florida to patch up her health and their marriage."

I felt my momentary hope plummet but when she asked, I insisted with false brightness that I was over him, even though it was a lie. How can you get over the man who'd sired your children? The question haunted me during restless nights as my due date approached and the most uncomfortable phase of my pregnancy began.

Everywhere I looked, everyone around me seemed to be in love. They traveled in twos, always twos, sauntering down the sidewalks hand in hand, or sitting at the bus stop together, or huddled under one umbrella as the rain poured. Sometimes they'd kiss or risk a brief intimate caress before I could tear my envious eyes away and look the other way, cradle my distended abdomen and relive the days of requited touches with a bittersweet longing. I anticipated the birth of my twins while observing the rest of the world passing by two-by-two.

One afternoon in early April, I dressed in jeans and a gray maternity sweater with a large heavy coat and my hat, scarf, gloves and my rubber boots and I took a cab to Portland for an ultrasound appointment and on the way out of the clinic, I noticed a bakery had just opened up next door and I decided to check it out. My days at home were beginning to drive me crazy and I needed something to do, and I was willing to do anything to postpone the long drive home. So I walked in and looked around. The place was empty except for one bored teenaged girl standing behind the counter.

I ordered a blueberry muffin and a cup of decaf coffee and then I turned around to find a table but when I did, I found Emmett standing not ten feet behind me.

We both came to a standstill and my heart began pounding. His face flushed, he appeared to be as shocked to see me as I was to see him.

"Rose…" he spoke first. "Uh… hi,"

I stood rooted to the spot, spellbound by his presence. I took in his appearance, the familiar curly brown hair, blue eyes, and those dimples…

"Hello, Emmett."

His eyes dropped to my maternity sweater, belled out by the protruding load I carried. I saw him swallow and he dragged his eyes back to my face. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question,"

"I'm in for the weekend… there's a convention," he paused. "I stopped by the house but… you weren't there,"

"We've moved."

"Moved? Where?"

"Catherine and I moved in with my mother and I've sold the house."

"Ah, so what are you doing in Portland?"

"I had an appointment,"

"Did you drive here?" he asked doubtfully, glancing at my girth.

"No." I said, unconsciously shielding my stomach with the bag containing my lunch. "How are you?"

"Uh… I've been better," he replied, a look of torment on his face.

"I was sorry to hear that Vivian lost the baby."

"Yes… well… sometimes, I guess… you know, it happens…" his words trailed away and his gaze returned to my stomach as if he couldn't look away. The seconds stretched like years and we stood in complete silence until the girl behind the counter turned the page in her magazine and smacked her gum.

"I understand you took a trip," I said shortly.

"Yes, to Tampa. I thought it would help her… I mean, us, recover." He sighed. "But she's having trouble with it," he murmured.

"Yes, well…" With nothing else to say on the topic, I didn't speak. And several seconds passed before he did.

"You look beautiful, Rose."

I hesitated. "My doctor is pleased with my health, and my mother has agreed to be with me when the babies are born—"

"Wait-bab_ies_?" his eyes got wide and he stared at me. I swallowed.

"Yes. Due in three weeks."

"Twins?"

"Yes. A boy and a girl."

"Well, uh… do you need anything? Money, anything?"

"No." _I don't need anything but you._

Then a couple other men came in through the door and came up behind Emmett, commenting on some lecture they'd all just sat through, but I didn't hear the words that passed between them nor did I understand their architect lingo, I just looked straight at Emmett, and then abruptly away.

"Listen, I have to go. My cab is waiting for me," I lied. I hadn't called the cab yet, but I managed to feign a quick smile before rushing out the door without another word, red-faced and trembling and humiliatingly on the verge of tears. An image flashed through my mind of myself with his children, Catherine, and another daughter and a son, entering the bakery three years from now and running into him again. Catherine may remember him, but the twins wouldn't.

I couldn't do it. It had nothing to do with shame. It had to do with love. A love that stubbornly refused to wither no matter how stupid it was… a love that, if I allowed it to fester, would in the end cripple me.

**Author's Note: Sooo….? What do you think? Let me hear it! I am very pleased by the sudden increase in reviews but now I've been spoiled and I'll be expecting more! ;) So review please!**


	16. It's Emmett

**Chapter 16: It's Emmett**

It had been a rough winter for Vivian. Feigning a pregnancy had put her on edge and had failed to bring back Emmett's affection as she had hoped. He remained distant and troubled, rarely touching her, offering only the most generic, perfunctory things, and he spent more time at the office than ever, leaving her alone most of the time.

His only sign of remorse came when she had called him in Chicago from "Boston Medical Center" to tell him that she had suffered a miscarriage. He had only suggested the second honeymoon trip thinking that it would help her recover because he'd known how badly she'd wanted to go. But even beneath the spell of the palm trees and sand, where their love should have recapitulated—if it were ever going to, he remained listless and distant.

But she was determined to win back his love and her next campaign involved his friends.

"Darling," she said one evening when he'd come home at a reasonable hour. "I thought that maybe we could invite Jim and Laura over Sunday night. I know I haven't made much of an attempt to befriend either of them but I would like to fix that. How about inviting them over for dinner? I could fix a lasagna or something, how does that sound?"

"Fine," he said indifferently, sitting at the desk in his study with a several plans spread out before him, sporting a new haircut that had chopped off his curls and made him look more like the businessman than the artist. She stood by him and admired his profile; a straight nose, curved lips, strong jaw, deep-set eyes and high cheekbones. The sight of him never failed to jar her longing for the old days and the way it used to be between them. She wondered if things would ever go back to the way they once were and she longed for it to happen soon if ever.

"I'm trying, Emmett. I don't know what to do to make you happy."

He sighed but said nothing and continued to move his pencil across the designs. "I'm kinda busy here,"

But she pursued. "What am I doing wrong, Emmett?"

Again the pencil stopped, but he didn't look up. "Nothing," he answered tiredly.

She sighed and slipped her hands into her pockets and fought the compulsion to admit what she'd been denying all these weeks, a confession that made her heart seize up with grief and insecurity.

Her husband didn't love her.

**Thursday, April 26th **

There were many preparations in the last two weeks before my due date. My brother Adam came to help set up the baby furniture and I made up the mattresses with soft sheets and blankets for the babies, one in about twenty different shades of pink in all different patterns, and the other in various tones of blue. I spent much of my days sitting down, whether in an armchair in the living room, the wicker furniture on the porch, or the sturdy rocking chair in my room.

Catherine was fascinated with the whole process and would sit and stare at my stomach, sometimes for what seemed like hours without moving more than a couple of inches in one direction or the other. Sometimes my belly would heave in ballooning fashion under my clothes as the babies shifted or rolled around and Catherine would squeal in delight and start to sing songs to her new baby brother and sister.

There was nothing extraordinary about the day I went into labor. The sky was a bright cobalt blue, the roads were dry and Dr. Spencer was calm as she instructed me to go to the hospital. Which I did, calling Adam and telling him to pick up Catherine after school today, on the way and I arrived at the hospital around eight o'clock that morning.

Gregory Abel was born at 7:42 P.M. He was six pounds even and fourteen inches long. I named him Abel for my brother.

Hannah Rebekah was born at 7:50 P.M. and she was five pounds and ten ounces and she was thirteen inches long. I had picked her names from the Bible. And I gave them both my name, Hale, as I had done with Catherine.

"It's like having you all over again," my mother told me as she dabbed at her eyes wit ha tissue, holding Gregory in her arms.

I looked up and smiled as my own eyes filled with tears, holding Hannah in my arms. Catherine had gotten here around four o'clock and Adam had been keeping her busy, but now she was lying up on the hospital bed curled up next to me, her head on my stomach. The poor thing was worn out and was sound asleep.

"Thank you for being here, Mama." I said softly.

"Thank you for asking me to be here, Rosy." She whispered back, winking at me before leaning down and planting a delicate kiss on Gregory's forehead.

**Saturday, April 28th**

Emmett saw the announcement on the online newspaper a couple days after the twins had been born and he sat back in his chair in astonishment.

Rosalie Hale is proud to announce the arrival of twins who were born April 26th at Mercy Hospital. Son, Gregory Abel, who was born at 7:42 P.M. and daughter, Hannah Rebekah, who was born at 7:50 P.M. Gregory weighted 5 lbs. 10 oz. And was 14 in. long at birth. Hannah weighted 5 lbs. 3 oz. And was 13 in. at birth.

Mother, big sister, and babies are all doing fine!

"Gregory and Hannah…" he said aloud to himself as he slowly stood up and walked around feeling deprived and looking out of every single window, staring at everything that moved but never seeing anything. What did they look like? What color hair did they have? What color eyes? What were they doing right now? Were they sleeping? Crying? Did they need changed? Were they in with Rosalie waiting to be fed? How was Catherine taking in all of this? What did the four of them look like together, Rosalie and his children?

He imagined the twins with blonde hair and lilac eyes and fair rosy skin and at once he felt helpless. Cheated. He felt like crying.

Vivian got back from picking up the boys at soccer practice and she spoke pleasantries to him while the boys ran around chasing one another, shouting. Outside a neighbor's dog was barking and a car was blowing its horn. All the noise buzzed in his ears and he just stood there motionless, not hearing a word that was said. Then suddenly and without warning, he grabbed his coat and ran out the door, slamming it on all the noise and moving like he was on autopilot.

He hadn't had the chance to shave or to change his clothes or to even comb his hair but he didn't care. He climbed into the new rented pickup truck that was temporarily replacing his jeep and headed for I-95 and making it to Mercy in less than two hours with my GPS.

At the hospital, Emmett knew the procedure for anyone wanting to view babies. You had to ask at the nurses' station for the babies to be brought to the observation window, but he had no intention of asking. Luck would either be with him or it wouldn't. So he passed the middle-aged woman behind the desk and followed the signs to the maternity wing.

Suddenly, a feeling of sick longing swept over him as he realized that Rosalie was likely here, too. Within just a few feet of him, she lay somewhere on a hospital bed, her body healing, her heart… he wondered about her heart. Was it, too, healing? Or did it still ache at the thought of him as his own did for her? If he asked her room number and were to go in and see her, what would she say to him?

He reached the nursery window at last and he peered inside. White walls trimmed with colorful shapes. There was a window on the opposite wall and there were eight cribs; only four of which were occupied. Two were pink and two were blue. From the distance, he could not read the names on the tags and he was suddenly terrified. How would he know which two were his? He swallowed hard and tried to lean in closely to get a good look at each one.

The first baby beneath a pink card lay on her back, crying, her arms up and quivering. He pressed his face against the nursery glass and squinted at the nametag. _Hannah Rebekah Hale_ came into focus. And the boy next to Hannah must have been his son. As he squinted at his tag, the name, _Gregory Abel Hale_, came into focus. His eyes stung with tears, but he dabbed his eyes with his sleeve before they could fall. But he studied his son and daughter. Each of them had hair the length, texture, and color not unlike a dandelion seed that erupted in a perfect crescent around their heads.

"Hannah," he whispered, touching the glass before his crying daughter.

Her face was red and disgruntled by temper, her eyes concealed in delicate pillows of pink as she cried. Within a white flannel blanket her feet churned in outrage. Watching, isolated by a quarter-inch of transparent glass, he suffered a longing so intense he actually reached for her, flattening a palm upon the window. Never had he felt so denied.

_Pick her up! Somebody pick her up! She's hungry or she needs changing, or she has a tummy ache, or she wants her hands uncovered because the lights in the room are too bright. Somebody uncover her hands. I want to see her hands!_ Emmett thought in a panic as he watched, helpless, from the other side of the nursery window. He could hear her squalling faintly through the glass, a faint mewling sound and he longed to pick her up.

Finally a nurse came, smiling as she lifted Hannah from the sterile glass crib and began talking to the infant. She cradled the baby on one arm and greed Hannah's trembling chin from the folds of the undershirt, facing her toward Emmett. At the touch, the baby quieted with amusing quickness while her mouth opened and sought sustenance. When none materialized, Hannah howled afresh, her face pruned and coloring.

The nurse bounced her gently then looked up and smiled at the man beyond the glass.

"It's time to feed her." He read the nurse's lips and as he watched her carry the baby away, he suffered.

_No! Come back! I'm her father and I can't come back here again! Please, come back!_ His throat tightened as he took one last look at Gregory, still sound asleep in his crib, smiling weakly before he turned and walked away.

One question. One simple question and he could find Rosalie's room. He could walk in and sit beside her bed and take her hand and… and what? Mourn this impasse together? Tell her he still loved her? That he was sorry? He would only burden her further.

No, the kindest thing he could do for her was to leave.

In the elevator, he battled the urge to cry. But when the doors opened at the bottom floor, there stood a woman whom he recognized as Rosalie's mother, holding two baskets in her arms, one decorated in blue ribbon, the other in pink.

Neither of them moved until the doors began to close and Emmett quickly stopped them. The door thumped together and the two stood before them, grave and uncertain what to say to one another.

"Hello, Ms. Hale."

"Hello… Emmett, is it?"

"Yeah… yeah…" his voice faded.

"Did you see Rosalie?"

"No." _How could I? _He thought. There was no use pretending. "Don't tell her I was here,"

"She would want to know,"

"All the more reason not to tell her. I'm not what she needs right now…"

Silence. "So, you've patched things up with your wife?"

"Trying to," he said somberly, his face held no joy at his answer.

"How…" he cleared his throat. "How is she?"

"She'll be alright. In time," Another blow. He closed his eyes and longed to see her.

"And Catherine, is she-"

"She's doing very well."

"That's good… good…" He paused. "Um, listen, if Rose ever needs any help… you know, money, anything… I would be more than happy to help. I'll give her anything she needs,"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Ms. Hale,"

"Sure. Well, she's expecting me so I'd better run. Take care, Eric." And with that she got into the elevator and the doors closed behind her. Only after she was long out of earshot did he finally say, "It's Emmett."

Author's Note: Well, what do you think? I know a lot of you are seriously hating on Emmett right now, and the mother getting his name wrong was for you. Ha ha, but I don't want you all to totally give up hope on him. I want you all to see that he really does love Rosalie but that his hands are tied.

**Also, based on a few of the reviews I've gotten, I think there may have been some confusion about the whole Vivian being pregnant, thing. No, she was NOT pregnant. She WAS lying about it and the miscarriage was also a lie. That was the act of a desperate woman trying to keep her husband from leaving her. But no, she was not pregnant. Okie doky, if there are ever any further questions, please don't hesitate to PM me! I love to hear from all of you!**

**Emmy**


	17. The Roses were Pink

**Chapter 17: The Roses Were Pink**

**Author's Note: Hey everybody. I am so sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've just been going through some sh*t right now and school's keeping me really busy. But anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Read and review!**

"Why on earth would you want to paint your bathroom _pink_?" Emmett said as he pried open the paint can and wrinkled his nose at the color. I was nineteen and had finally saved up enough money to get my own apartment, and Emmett had volunteered to help me paint it and fix it up. But I had always wanted a pink bathroom and was excited to finally have a chance to get one.

"What do you mean?" I asked innocently.

"Well, I mean, isn't pink kind of a little girl thing?"

"I don't have to defend my color choices to you," I laughed as I tied my hair up in a messy bun and ran my hands over the denim of my paint-splattered overalls. "And it's not pink, it's _amaryllis_."

"Uh, you can call it whatever you want, darling. But _this_—" he nodded his head at the color. "Is bubblegum pink."

"No, it's amaryllis!" I stuck my tongue out at him as I picked up the can and stepped back to pour it into the dish when my foot caught in the tarp we'd spread to protect the floor and I fell, spilling about a quarter of the paint all over myself before I landed right on my rump, red-faced as I waited for him to laugh.

But he didn't.

Startled, he rushed to me and said, "Are you alright?"

I looked up at him and for some reason I got tickled and started laughing. And so did he, now that he could see that I was not hurt. But we laughed together on the floor; me practically covered in my amaryllis pink paint. But he helped me to my feet—getting some of the paint on him as he did—and he kissed my forehead and he said. "You look pretty in pink,"

I giggled and said, "I'll be sure to wear it for you more often, then."

**The Present**

My happiness over the birth of Hannah and Gregory was shadowed by moments of melancholy. The entire duration of the three days I spent in the hospital, my heart ached for Emmett, whose continued absence left my heart feeling sore. I'd tried to prepare myself for it before, because I knew that wishing for it would be self-deluding hope. I saw how my family tried to compensate for his not being there, but nothing could ease the pain of losing him during a period that should have drawn us closer. I lamented for his loss as well, because of the anguish he must have been suffering. I wondered if he would hear that the twins had been born and would want to come see them. I also wondered about his marriage and how the birth of his illegitimate children would affect it. That thought led me to wonder whether or not he had even told Vivian about his illegitimate children, and the chances were slim.

Late in the afternoon of my last day in the hospital, I was lying in bed thinking of him when a voice said, "Looks like somebody loves you,"

A woman came in, partially hidden behind an enormous vase of flowers wrapped in blue tissue paper.

"Ms. Hale?" said a woman who I took to be a hospital volunteer.

"Yes?"

"Someone sent these for you."

"For me?" I sat up straighter.

"Mhmm, some of the prettiest roses I've ever seen,"

"But everyone I know has already sent flowers," Then I was surrounded by them. Flowers from my mother, my brothers, a few of old friends that I'd gone to high school with that still lived in the area, some neighbors, every waitress who I'd worked with at the diner, and so on… I couldn't imagine who else there could be.

"My goodness, there must be two dozen," said the volunteer as she set them on the table beside me.

"Is there a card?"

"None that I saw. Maybe the florist forgot it. Well, enjoy!"

When she was gone, I removed the tissue paper and then my eyes began to water and I pressed a hand to my lips. The florist had not forgotten the card. No card was necessary… The roses were pink.

**Author's Note: I know, I know it's short. I've just been having some writer's block lately… but like I've said before, any help or suggestions would be greatly appreciated! But I'll try not to take so long between updates.**

**Also, I realize that the first part was a little short, but I didn't really feel much like elaborating too much on the rest of the day and really the point of that little excerpt was to show the significance of the color pink in their relationship. So I hope you all got it, if not, then… well, there you go. Ha ha. Anyway, please review!**


	18. Jim Anderson

**Chapter 18: Jim Anderson**

Of course Emmett did not come. But by sending the flowers, I knew that it cost him not to and the pink roses left me feeling greatly bereaved every time I looked at them.

But someone did come; someone who I had only ever met once or twice and would never in a million years have expected to see here now. But when a nurse told me that I had a visitor I looked up and there he was. In fact, I had seen so little of him I was surprised I knew him.

"Jim!" I gasped, eyes wide as I sat up straighter in bed.

There he was; Jim Anderson; Emmett's best friend. I had only met him a couple of times, always in passing; but I had heard so much about him—and I was sure he'd heard just as much about me—that I felt like he were an old friend.

"Oh, you remember me. I wasn't expecting you to," he said sheepishly as he took off his hat and stepped slowly into the room.

I only stared at him. "What are you doing here?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, I didn't know if I'd be welcome or not… but I saw the announcement online and… well, I had to stop by and see if you were alright. 'Cause… well, 'cause I know Emmett won't."

My heart panged at the mention of his name but I shook my head, refused to let the tears fall. "No, no, please. Come in." I said.

When he did, he held up a basket in his left hand filled with daisies and tied in blue and pink ribbons. "I brought flowers,"

"Oh, that's so sweet of you. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said softly. There was a short silence before he went on. "I, uh… I heard you had twins."

"Yes." I said. "Hannah and Gregory, they're in the nursery if you would like to see them."

"Oh, I'd love to. I'll be sure to stop by before I go," he said as he placed the basket of daisies on the table already filled with flowers and gifts. "But uh, listen. I actually came out to make sure you were alright… you know, I mean, I know it's not exactly that we were great friends or anything, but when my best friend whose been like a brother to me since we were in first grade tells me that he's got three kids living up in Maine, well… I gotta say, I had to stop by. I, uh, well… I also had some time on my hands. I mean, Hillary's got school and Laura… well, I checked her back into the hospital. She really wanted to come see you again, though." He explained.

Suddenly, I remembered Laura. I'd met her a few more times because we shopped at the same grocery store back in Boston. And Hillary… she'd just been a tiny thing at the time. I remembered Emmett telling me that they'd had to adopt because of Laura's extensive health problems. But Hillary was just the cutest little thing then, I wondered what she looked like now. But then I thought of Laura, last I'd heard, she'd been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer and was in poor shape.

"I heard about Laura, I am so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help,"

"Thank you, but I'm afraid all that can be done is being done. But anyway, how've you been? I know you had to sell the house and have moved back in with your mother. Do you need anything? I know Emmett will help you in any way he can,"

"Does he know you're here?"

Jim hesitated. "Not yet he doesn't. But he will as soon as I get home,"

"Jim, please don't be too angry with him. It was just as much my fault as it was his that we started the affair in the first place."

"I ought to be angry at him, and disappointed. Hell, I think it's obvious that neither of Vivian's kids is his and he really does want kids of his own. But I'll be damned if he's not married to the wrong woman. Now maybe I'm just biased because Vivian's always treated my wife and daughter like they're beneath her, but she's all wrong for him, Rosalie. I know it, you know it, and he knows it," He then seemed to catch himself and he stopped. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be going on about this to you when you're still recovering."

I shook my head. "It's alright, Jim. I'm alright."

He nodded. "Good. That's good," he sighed before he continued. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I'll raise them myself. After all, I did it with Catherine and I think I've done a pretty good job so far." I smiled.

"Do you plan to tell them who their father is?" he asked quietly.

I sighed and nodded. "Every child deserves to know that… and besides, Catherine already knows him. If I don't tell the twins, then she will eventually. And then they'll all go looking for him the first chance they get."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

We talked for another ten or fifteen minutes before he had to leave, but on his way out, he stopped by the nursery window and gazed down at his new "niece" and "nephew". Studying the babies, he contemplated the wonder and the disappointment of his best friend's situation.

**Later that Day**

Jim got home at four o'clock that afternoon and he called Emmett immediately when he pulled in the garage.

"Hey, I need you out here. The car broke down and I can't get the damn thing to start."

"Now?"

"You want me to miss work in the morning?"

"You know as much about engines as I do, can't you fix it?"

"We'll figure out what's wrong with it a lot faster with two of us. Now are you coming out here or not?"

"Oh, hell. Alright, I'll be there in half an hour."

Jim hung up the phone, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and went out to sit on the front porch and wait for Emmett to arrive.

Jim was on his second beer when Emmett got there twenty-five minutes later and started to head around back to the garage.

"The car works fine. Sit down." Jim ordered.

Emmett came up short. "What the hell do you mean it works fine?"

"I mean there's nothing wrong with it. Now sit down. I need to have a word with you."

"About what?"

"I went up the Mercy Hospital in Maine today and saw two of your kids."

"You _what_?"

"You heard me. And I saw Rosalie, too."

Emmett swore under his breath. "Listen, Jim. Getting my ass chewed out by you is the last thing I need right now—"

"And the last thing Rosalie Hale needs is three kids without a father." Jim interrupted. "What the hell were you thinking, Emmett? Picking back up with that affair after all this time! I told you it was a bad idea from the start. I told you that you needed to get divorced first before you picked things back up with Rosalie. Or anybody else,"

Emmett stuck out his jaw stubbornly and remained silent.

"Jesus, man! Does Vivian know about this?"

"Yes!" Emmett snapped.

"Christ," Jim muttered under his breath, taking another swig of his beer while Emmett glowered at him.

"What the hell kind of a marriage do you got, Emmett?"

"That is none of your business, Jim!"

"Hell it isn't! I made it my business a long time ago to keep you in check, ever since your old man decided not to."

"Do you not realize that it's killing me not to be up there right now?"

"Oh, boohoo, poor Emmett doesn't get to spend quality time with his baby mama. You know, I might take a minute to feel sorry for ya if I wasn't so disgusted with you! Now I may not think the sun exactly rises and sets on Vivian, but damn it, Emmett! She's still your wife and you're neglecting your responsibilities as her husband!"

"Vivian and I are working things out. She's been different ever since she lost the baby,"

"Oh yeah? And what baby is that?" Jim snapped. "I've seen a lot of pregnant women in my day, Emmett. Remember, I'm the oldest of six kids? And I remember Vivian's first two pregnancies, and I can tell you right now that that woman was no more pregnant than I am!"

Emmett stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about, Jim?"

"You heard me. I don't know what kind of game she was playing but she was certainly not four months pregnant."

"You're crazy. Of course she was pregnant! Why would she lie about something like that?"

"Oh, well gee, let me think. Maybe because she overheard us talking about how you'd knocked somebody else up and she was desperate to keep from losing you?"

There was a long stretched out silence between the two men. Emmett stood there in the middle of the yard, stunned, unable to speak. Jim broke the silence.

"What I want to make sure of is that you start acting like a husband. Now, to which woman, I don't give a shit. But _one at a time_, Emmett, do you understand me?"

"You don't understand, Jim. When I started seeing Rose again, I had every intention of leaving Vivian."

"Is that supposed to excuse you? Now you listen to me, and you listen good. I know you. And I know what it's doing to you to be away from those kids. And if I'm right, you're gonna want to start hanging around up there again and play with the kids and play "daddy" every now and again. Well if that's what you choose to do, go right on ahead and do it. But you start doing that and you know exactly what else is going to start back up again. I'm not stupid, you know. I saw those roses in her room and I saw the look on her face every time she saw them. And when two people got feelings as strong for one another and three kids, then that's a pretty tough thing to control. So fine, you go see your kids and their mother, but _first_, and I mean before you do anything else, you get yourself free and clear of the woman you already got! You ought to know right from wrong by now and keeping two women is wrong, no matter what. Do I make myself clear?"

Emmett was speechless after Jim's long speech. But with his jaw set, he nodded stiffly. "Yes."

"And do I have your word that you won't so much as think about going up there without divorce papers in your hand?"

When Emmett did not answer, Jim repeated sharply. "Well? Do I?"

"Yes!" He snapped before climbing back into his truck and slamming the door just as the school bus stopped out front and opened its doors to let Hillary off.

Jim sat back and leaned against the railing of the stairs took one last swig of his beer just in time for the bus to close its doors and once it's STOP sign was folded back, Emmett sped away, but not before Hillary could see him.

"Was that Uncle Emmett, Daddy?" she asked as she reached her father.

"Yeah, it was, Pumpkin."

"Why did he look so angry?"

"Oh, he's just gotten himself in a little bit of trouble. But don't worry, I think everything is gonna turn out just fine…"

**Author's Note: Well… what do you think? I'm sure many of you will appreciate Emmett getting chewed out like that. (Especially you, Jessa) But anyway, I'm really sorry it took so long to respond the previous chapter and it was so short, but I hope this makes up for it! Well, let me know what you guys think, read & review please!**


	19. DNA Test

**Chapter 19: DNA Test**

It took a great deal of effort for Emmett to keep from approaching Vivian with Jim's suspicions the moment he got home that afternoon. His emotions were too raw, his confusion too new, and as it turned out, she was asleep anyway. She'd fallen asleep on the couch. The boys were out at friends' houses and the house was silent.

So he took advantage of the quiet and sat down in his office and held his head in his hands and he thought about what Jim had said. Had Vivian really been lying to him all along? Doing the math in his head, she would have been about four months along when she'd miscarried. But even before that, he'd commented on her continued slimness. But what had she said? Something about her healthy diet and exercise routine, and the doctors had told her that the baby was small. Then he thought about Rosalie. She'd been about four and a half months pregnant when she'd found out, and he vaguely remembered her telling him she'd gained twenty pounds by then. But she'd been carrying twins. But she hadn't been wearing maternity clothes then either. So maybe Jim was wrong after all.

He turned around and looked at the two filing cabinets behind him. The larger one with four drawers was his, mostly work related files and the insurance and bills and what not. But the smaller one, with only two drawers was Vivian's. They'd kept their files separate to make things easier. But the health insurance and hospital bills would be in that one.

When Vivian walked by the door a few minutes later after waking from her nap, she saw him hunched over an open drawer flipping through the medical and health insurance files but she didn't stop.

"Hey, Viv," he called, forcing an offhand expression, "shouldn't we be getting a bill from Boston Medical pretty soon here?"

She reappeared in the doorway and answered shortly, "I took care of it already." As she started heading off again, he called after her.

"Hey, wait a minute!"

Impatiently, she returned. "What? I've gotta run to the store and get something to fix for dinner before the boys come home."

"What do you mean you took care of it? The insurance should have covered it," She was covered under his insurance policy that was provided to him and his family through work.

"It did. I mean, it will as soon as I send in the forms."

"You haven't done that yet?" Vivian was a very efficient bookkeeper; before they'd gotten married she'd worked as a secretary in a law firm. For her to neglect paperwork for several months was not like her.

"What is this, an interrogation?" She snapped.

"I'm just wondering why I haven't heard anything about it from the insurance company, because I'm the primary so it should have all gone through my account. But I haven't seen it,"

"I don't know, maybe they forgot," she said quickly before hurrying away.

Once she was gone he began searching more thoroughly. He flipped through the insurance folder but found only their dental claims for the past several years, the paperwork from when Scott fell off the jungle gym at daycare and broke his arm five years ago, and everybody's vaccinations, and even copies of the boys' birth certificates, but nothing to do with her miscarriage. He searched every file in both drawers but to no avail and was about to give up when he noticed one folder had fallen back behind the drawers and lay at the bottom of the cabinet. He reached in carefully and retrieved it. Inside were a few papers from a hospital, including what he recognized as the computer printout of a hospital bill. Extracting the folded sheets, he had difficulty translating the hospital jargon and code words, but he made it out to be the bill for a miscarriage. And he sighed and leaned back in the chair. He was about to put the paper back when he noticed something strange. The hospital was Massachusetts General. Not Boston Medical. He frowned and saw something else strange: the date on the bill. It wasn't in March. It wasn't even this year. It was twelve years ago.

_Twelve years ago?_

_What the hell?_

He frowned and decided to go through the rest of the file. There were several pages dealing with the incident twelve years ago, but then something jumped out at him—two names, anyway. _Sam_ and _Emmett_. It was written at the top of a page that he recognized as the results of a DNA test. His own name and "Sam"; Sam, who? He could only guess it was Sam Godfrey. And the initials _S_ and _T_ he took to represent Scott and Tyler. The results were dated around the time Scott had been four and Tyler about eighteen months. The results read what he had suspected for years; the boys were not his.

Jesus… even though he'd suspected it all along it hurt him to finally realize that he'd been right. The words on the page became blurred as his eyes filled with tears. But they were tears of rage.

When he came out of the office, Vivian was still gone. So he stormed up the stairs to their bedroom and packed his suitcases and loaded everything into the truck. Then he sat down at the kitchen table to wait, his anger growing with every passing second and the file placed on the table in front of him.

She arrived about ten minutes later, coming sideways through the door with her arms full of packages. "Wait till you see what I got!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I went into the little shop next to the—"

"Shut the door." He ordered icily.

In slow motion she looked back over her shoulder at him. "What's wrong?"

"Shut the door and sit down."

She closed the door and warily approached the table after putting the bags down on the counter.

"I found something a little while ago." He pushed the file across the table at her and watched her. "Do you have something you'd like to say to me?"

She glanced down and her face went white. But she tried to disguise her surprise beneath a look of hauteur. "You went through my things?" she said, sounding offended.

"Yes, I went through _your things_." He repeated, his voice rising in anger.

"How dare you! That's my personal file and I don't appreciate you snooping around through my stuff—"

"Don't you get angry at me, you lying bitch!" he snarled as he rose to his feet. "Not with the proof of your lies right there in front of you!" he jabbed a finger at the bill.

"I don't have to stand here and listen to this," she turned away but he grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"You're not walking away from this one, Vivian," he shouted. "You've been lying to me for twelve years! The boys aren't even mine! You got knocked up by somebody else and tried to pass it off as my child!"

"You don't understand the whole story—"

"You slept with Sam Godfrey! He was my best friend, Vivian. And you slept with him. The only thing I don't understand is why you didn't just marry him in the first place rather than force me to save your sorry ass."

"Because I _was _pregnant by you!" she cried. "But I lost the baby!" she snatched her arm back and tears began to fall. "You were in California or Texas or somewhere—I don't remember where. But you weren't here. And I lost the baby and I knew that if I told you then you'd leave. Because that baby was the only reason you married me in the first place. I panicked! I didn't know what else to do to make you stay—"

"You really think I'd have left you?" he said furiously. "Because I wouldn't have. I had planned on marrying you, Vivian. I just wanted to save up more money and get a decent job first. I wasn't ready to marry you in college, but I wouldn't have left you."

"Oh, please, Emmett… yes you would've. You'd have left me years ago if it weren't for the boys."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What? You think I haven't known about your little girlfriend all along?"

"She has nothing to do with this—"

"Oh, doesn't she? You know, when you run off to see her in the middle of the day, I would recommend closing out of the baby announcements on your laptop before you leave."

Flustered, Emmett felt the color drain from his face. He'd figured she knew something, but not that she knew everything.

"Oh, so he's got a weak spot… your children aren't mine and mine aren't yours. I think we're even, Emmett; I lied to keep from losing you, and you lied… well, because you're just a two-timing jerk. I only slept with Sam those two times, but you've been sleeping with old what's-her-face for years." She swept her hair back away from her face and she sighed. "We both made mistakes, Emmett. And I am willing to forgive and forget them if you are,"

Emmett sighed. "Vivian, don't,"

"But you're going back to her now, aren't you?"

He watched her mouth turn sad and he said nothing.

"I still love you."

"Vivian, don't." he repeated, turning away.

"I'm willing to forgive you Emmett. We could forget everything and start fresh. A new beginning."

"It's too late for that, Vivian." He said, staring out the window of the house that he'd loved and she'd hated. He felt her hand on his back and she spoke softly.

"Emmett…" she said imploringly. He swung away from her and headed for the door. "I'll be at Jim's."

"Don't go!" she began to cry again. "Please don't go, Emmett. I'll be different this time. I promise!" she cried desperately.

"Don't…" he shook his head. "You're embarrassing both of us." He picked up the hospital bill and stuffed it into his pocket. "I'll be seeing my lawyer tomorrow and giving him the order that either he gets this thing pushed through or I'll find another lawyer who will."

"Emmett—" She reached out a hand.

He put his hand on the doorknob and looked back at her. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I mean it when I say I never meant to." And with that, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

**Author's Note: Well? He's officially left her. Now I'm sure that makes a lot of you happy. Others I'm sure are still not impressed, but I'm actually considering a twist in my original story line. However, it does not include Emmett dying, (sorry, Jessa) so stop suggesting he get hit by a truck! Ha ha.**


	20. Accusations and Interrogations

**Chapter 20: Accusations and Interrogations**

It was nearing the end of May before I heard the news that Emmett had left his wife, and I lived on pins and needles every day after that, wondering how long it would be before I would hear from him. I would run to the window to peer outside whenever a car passed the house or pulled into the driveway. And whenever the phone rang, my heart would jump into overdrive and I'd hurry to answer it. If anyone ever knocked on the door the butterflies in my stomach would flutter and my palms would start to sweat. But it was never him.

I trimmed the leaves from the roses he'd sent me and hung them upside down in the back of my closet to preserve them, but even after they'd dried I still hadn't heard from him. I'd often look at my children and wonder if he were thinking about them… thinking about me…

My thirtieth birthday passed without a word from him. Catherine brought me breakfast in bed—a bowl of Lucky Charms, two pieces of blackened wheat toast, a cup of weak tea, and a handful of dandelions she'd found in the yard and placed in a cup of water and a hand-made card that she'd signed her own name and that of her brother and sister—and I managed to keep my mind occupied most of the day. Though I did not hear from Emmett, I did receive a call from Jim, who was checking up on me to see how I was doing and to ask again if I needed anything, and also to wish me a happy birthday. I thanked him but insisted that I was fine.

Later in the day, Mother and I took the kids down to Boston for a shopping trip. We were sitting at a stop light towards the center of the city when I glanced idly to my left and found Emmett staring down at me from behind the wheel of a blue Ford pickup truck.

The center of my breastbone ached. The light turned green and the cars behind me honked. But still I didn't move.

Emmett's gaze shifted to the back of the car where Catherine—completely unaware of the tension stirring between me and the truck next to us—was seated between the two car seats, talking to her grandmother, who sat beside me, also oblivious.

The cars honked again, longer this time, and my mother touched my arm. "Rose, dear. It's green," she said gently. And I quickly pulled away from the light, losing sight of his truck when he made a left-hand turn and disappeared from my rearview mirror. The entire rest of the day, I despaired over it. He hadn't even waved. Hadn't even tried to stop me.

Vivian

Mother's Day came and went without a word from Emmett. Though she received half a dozen daisies from Scott and a store-bought card from Tyler, Vivian still missed the customary bouquet of yellow or orange tulips from Emmett. On their first Mother's Day together, she'd been five months pregnant and he'd brought her Breakfast in Bed. He'd gotten up early to fix her eggs and bacon but had burned them and ended up going down the street to the Waffle House and bringing her back a plate from there instead. She remembered laughing when he'd told her and spilling orange juice all over the eggs. But he'd never done it for her again. Of course that was also the year she'd begun suspecting his infidelity and he'd never been the same after that.

On the first day of June, Vivian saw in the morning paper that Laura Anderson had died and that the funeral was being held Wednesday morning starting at 10 AM at Mackey Funeral Home all the way up in Danvers. She groaned, it was a thirty-minute drive to Danvers, but if it meant seeing Emmett again, she was willing to drive all the way to Canada. So she made arrangements to attend.

I learned from the online newspaper that Laura had passed on Friday, the thirty-first and that the funeral was on the following Wednesday. My heart broke for Jim and Hillary and I ordered a flower arrangement from a florist in Boston and arranged for it to be sent over and my mother offered to watch the kids so that I could go to pay my respects.

I arrived at Mackey Funeral Home just before 9:30 Wednesday morning. Even though the funeral wasn't until ten o'clock, the parking lot was already full; I'd had to squeeze the van into a parking space next to some jackass in a blue pickup truck who apparently didn't know how to park, but I smoothed out my new black dress and headed into the building. An usher held the door for me and I thanked him as I stepped inside and looked around. The interior was nice but a girl sitting all alone on the steps in the corner that I assumed led to the offices upstairs grabbed my attention. Just one look at her and I knew it was Hillary by the dirty blonde curls. When I had known her, Laura had always kept those beautiful curls pinned back with ribbons. But there were no ribbons in her hair today. She was sitting on the bottom step hugging her legs to her chest with her head resting on her knees, sobs shaking her small frame. My heart broke for the motherless child and I rushed over to her, sitting down next to her.

"Oh, sweetie. I am so sorry about your mother," I said, rubbing her back soothingly. She cried harder and leaned against me and I stroked her hair, rubbed her back, and patted her shoulders, all as soothingly and motherly, as I would have done for my own children.

I didn't watch the time but twenty minutes passed before I realized it because the music was starting and the ushers were closing the doors. But not another minute longer and the doors were opening again and out came Emmett—looking sharp in a tailored black suit and crisp white shirt and a smoke-gray tie. He'd cut his hair since the last time I'd seen him; he'd cropped off all those beautiful curls that I saw in Catherine every single day. And yet, I missed them. But I quickly noticed he was being closely followed by a stern looking woman who had clearly had her hair done and was dressed in a black dress that showed just more cleavage than was appropriate to wear to a funeral. I took this woman to be Vivian.

He looked around but quickly found us. He looked startled to see me. I wasn't sure if he had ever known that Laura and I had been friends once. But it appeared that this was the last place he would have expected to see me—though whether he knew or not, I could hardly blame him.

Vivian was whispering something to him, probably some meaningless words of comfort that he didn't want to hear. I could tell that he was aggravated with her.

"Not now! Just go inside, I'll be in there in a minute." Emmett hissed quietly at her. Under any other circumstances I might have been pleased to see him snap at her, but this was not the setting to smile or laugh, especially in spite of another. And my heart was still aching for the little girl in my arms who would have to grow up without a mother.

"Hillary, honey. It's time to go in now. Your dad's waiting for you," Emmett said, shaking off Vivian's hands from his arm.

I kissed her head and rubbed her back gently. "It's alright, sweetie. Come on, I'll come with you. Okay?" I whispered.

"Hillary," Emmett repeated. "Come on."

I opened up my pocketbook and took out my handkerchief and used it to dab her face until all the moisture from her tears was gone and I smiled encouragingly at her and handed it to her. She offered back a weak smile in thanks and nodded. "It'll be alright." I assured her, hoping it would be.

She took my handkerchief and I smiled back at her before I stood and helped her to her feet, my hands on her shoulders as I led her back over to Emmett.

"Thank you." He whispered to me, his eyes full of gratitude before he turned to lead Hillary into the main room. The look in his eyes told me he would talk to me after the service. I smiled weakly and nodded.

I went to follow them in but was suddenly headed off by Vivian.

"Who are you?" she asked as soon as the doors were closed behind Emmett and Hillary, her eyes narrowed and her voice icy.

Startled, I said, "Rose." But when I tried to get past her, she sidestepped back in front of me and spread an arm out to touch the doorframe, blocking my entrance again.

"Rose, _what_?"

"Stoddard." I said. I don't know why I had lied. But for some reason I felt compelled to use my mother's maiden name.

"Hm… well, I can assure you that I was quite close to the Andersons—particularly Laura, and I'm afraid I don't know you." She was lying. I knew it. Emmett had told me about the way she'd always snubbed Jim's family and had never attempted to become friends with them. I was already annoyed at the prospect of being interrogated. I felt like a child on the playground being bullied by another child two grades older than me and I had nowhere to go.

"I don't live around here, anymore."

"How do you know the Andersons, then?"

"I was a friend of Laura's when I was going to school in Boston."

"Hm… that's odd, because I've been close friends—practically relatives—for almost fifteen years, and I have never seen or heard of a _Rose Stoddard_."

"Well, we didn't exactly carpool together. But I fail to see how that is any of your business—"

"Fine, I'll get to the point." She interrupted. "How do you know my husband?"

"Your husband?" I raised my eyebrows, unconvinced.

"Yes, Emmett; that man who was just here. I don't like the way you were looking at him." She folded her arms across her chest and shifted her weight. I mirrored her.

"I beg your pardon?" I said, offended.

"You heard me." She said through her teeth. I could hear the service starting on the other side of the doors but she clearly had no interest in attending.

"Listen, I don't know what your problem is, but I can assure you that you are mistaken."

"Oh, am I?" she sneered.

"Yes." I said, trying my very best not to snarl at her.

"Well, I don't think I am. In fact, I think that your name isn't Stoddard at all." She accused. I swallowed.

"And why would you say that?"

"Because, while I don't know of a Rose _Stoddard_, I do happen to know of a Rose _Hale_." I could feel the color drain from my face. "And, well, to be perfectly honest, I don't think that she would be welcome here. You see, she's what we ladies like to call a _chaser_." I knew perfectly well what a chaser was, but I guess she felt the need to explain, and with a much cruder definition than was necessary. "A chaser is a woman who runs around, kicking up her heels, and spreading her legs to any married man she can sink her teeth into." She seemed quite pleased with herself, but I was appalled. "So I think it would be best for everyone involved if you were to leave now, lest you find somebody else whose marriage you think needs ruining by the birth of a few more bastards—"

I didn't give her a chance to even finish her sentence before the heel of my hand made contact with her nose and made her scream. She could insult me all she wanted, but I'd be damned before I let her say a word about my children. I only got to see the blood running down her face for an instant before spinning on my heel and storming out the door to the parking lot. But I could hear that we had disrupted the funeral and I was walking out the front door by the time the first person came out in the lobby.

While a few people gathered around Vivian who was crying and fanning her hands to her nose in pain, I heard one set of footsteps rushing out the front and running after me. I could still hear her screaming, calling me all sorts of names, saying that the harlot had done it, the bitch had broken her nose, and so on… I didn't care. I kept going.

"Rose!" Emmett called, but I didn't turn around. I kept marching towards the van. "Rosalie, wait!" it didn't take long for him to catch up to me and he grabbed my arm and spun me around. "Rose, what happened?" he asked, by the look on his face, I could see he was concerned. "Are you crying?" he looked shocked by the tears streaming down my face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just couldn't control myself," I sobbed. "I tried not to, but you didn't hear the horrible things she was saying. And when she attacked my children, I couldn't stop myself from hitting her!"

He put both hands on my arms and looked down at me, "She attacked the kids?" for a moment his face flashed with anger. "What did she say?"

I sniffed and started digging through my purse for my handkerchief, but then I remembered I had given it to Hillary and I closed the snap of my purse and looked away. He reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit and pulled out one of his own to give to me, I thanked him and took it.

"She s-said I w-was a-a chaser, an-and I wasn't w-wel-come here." I wiped my eyes and held the handkerchief to my nose. "Sh-she said I-I sp-spread my legs for any m-married m-man I could g-get an-and to l-leave before I ru-ruined s-someone else's m-marriage w-with more b-b—" I couldn't say the word. Not when thinking of my children. But he understood. He sighed and pulled me into his arms and held me tight.

"It's alright, Rose. Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He said, rubbing my back. "Oh, and before I forget, I have something for you. I wasn't expecting to see you here, but it's in the truck. I was gonna stop by the post office later, hang on." He pulled a key out of his pocket and went to the blue pickup truck that I had cursed earlier for taking up almost two spaces—I smiled weakly—but he climbed in and pulled an envelope out of the glove department, then came back and handed it to me.

I took it and looked at it for a moment before I started to open it. When I did, I nearly dropped it. It was a check; payable to me; for almost $9,000. I looked up at him in astonishment.

"What the hell is this?"

"I realized I haven't been paying child support or anything, so this should at least start to make up the past few months." I stared at him. I wished I could tear the check in half and tell him I didn't need the money. But I did. Raising three kids was expensive and I was down to the last couple thousand in my savings and it was running out.

"I'd rather you just come up and see them," I told him, and I would have. He smiled weakly and looked down for a moment.

"There's nothing I want more than to see them every day," he said.

"But…?" I frowned.

"But," He went on, sighing heavily. "But if I were to start going up there again, I'm sure that we would pick up right where we left off. If not right away, then eventually. And I can't do that to you again. Not until I'm completely free of Vivian. I'm sorry." He said sincerely, and he looked sorry.

I felt my heart fall and I looked back down at the check, sticking it back in the envelope. "You can't come up to see them, so they get your money instead?" I asked, not looking at him, keeping my eyes on the envelope.

He sighed, putting his hands on my arms again and looking down at me. "I wish I could… but they deserve better. _You_ deserve better."

_I don't want better… I want you!_ I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't. All I could do was nod. But then I remembered that I had something in my purse that he might like. So I opened it up, pulled out my wallet and pulled out two wallet-sized photographs. One was a copy of Catherine's school yearbook picture. The second was one of the most recent pictures I had the three of them; Catherine sitting on the couch between the twins. I took one last look at the images and then handed them over to him.

He took them and smiled down at the images, a sad lingering smile. Then he looked back up at me and kissed my forehead. "Thank you," he whispered. I nodded my response and then turned back to get in my van to go home.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. I am really sorry about the delay—I meant to have this chapter up a while ago but I kept having to write it and rewrite it over and over again and I was just never happy with it. I still don't think it's my best work, but I hope you all like it. Sorry again for the delay, but I tried to make it a little longer to help make up for the delay. So anyway, I can't wait to hear back from y'all. Review!


	21. Judgment and Decree

**Chapter 21: Judgment and Decree**

July came and Hannah got her first ear infection. I would walk around the house with her at night, irritable and exhausted with sleep deprivation, wishing that Emmett were there to take the baby from me and tell me to go to bed. But he didn't. And in August, Catherine went back to school and Lucy went away to Dartmouth in New Hampshire and Mother went back to work as the secretary at Catherine's new school, leaving me alone at the house most of the days. But caring for my now four-month-old twins kept me busy—sometimes more so than I could manage.

But on an unusually warm day in mid October, I was outside mopping and scrubbing down the front porch. I'd made up the play pin with a soft quilt and had placed it just inside the door and had placed the twins—now six months old—inside of it so that I could hear if they woke up. I was on my hands and knees, my hair tied back in a messy bun, dressed in the overalls that were still stained with pink paint, and I was barefoot as I scrubbed the tiles and the grout in the floor. I was listening to the babies cooing inside and was about to go in and check on them when I heard footsteps coming down the walkway behind me. I backed up, turned, and felt my heart drop.

A blue Ford pickup was parked on the street and coming down the walkway, dressed in dark blue jeans, a gray button-down with rolled-up sleeves, and brown boots, was Emmett McCarthy.

I watched him moving toward me while the adrenaline surged through me. I forgot everything else; how my hair was a mess, I was dressed in oversized, paint-splattered overalls and that I was not wearing any makeup. I forgot everything except that Emmett was here.

He stopped on the opposite side of the bucket I'd filled with soapy water and looked down, his hands in his pockets. "Hey," he said, as casually as a stranger might.

"Hello," I whispered, my pulse drumming everywhere.

"I have something for you." He said as he handed me a white envelope.

I hesitated before I took it from him, not saying anything. I held it but didn't move again, I just stared up at him.

"Please open it,"

I sighed and wiped my hands on my overalls before I looked down and tore open the sealed end of the envelope as he stood over me, watching me. I drew out a few papers and I opened them and began to read them.

_Findings for Fact; Conclusion of Law; Order for Judgment; Judgment and Decree._

"What is this?" I asked him after reading the heading and looking up at him uncertainly.

"My divorce papers."

Shock rushed up and almost pushed tears up with it but I bit them back. I dropped my chin and kept my face down to hide the fact that I was fighting the urge to cry. I almost wanted to throw my arms around him, but I didn't. Not after the way he had treated me. Not after what he'd done to me.

"Don't you want them?" I asked him casually, holding them back up for him to take. He furrowed his brow and looked at me, confused. I shook my head. "What am I going to do with them?" I asked as I shook my hand, urging him to take them back. He hesitated, but he finally did.

"I've left her, Rose—"

"So I see,"

"I just had it finalized this morning and I rushed up here as quickly as I could."

"Yes, I can see that, too." I said shortly as I stood and picked up the bucket to pour some of the water on the porch floor before I went back to my mopping.

"I've come to check on you," He said after a short pause. "And make sure you were alright." His voice was soft. I sighed and holding onto the mop handle so tightly my knuckles turned white, my heart ached for him. But I refused to indulge it.

"Well, you could have saved yourself a trip." I said over my shoulder to him. "Because I'm doing just fine. You could've called instead."

Emmett was silent for a few seconds. "And I've come to be with you,"

I sighed again. This time I stopped mopping, but I didn't turn around. "You expect me to take you back after the way you treated me?" I asked, my back on him.

"I thought about you constantly… I could never get you out of my head—"

I turned and held up a hand to stop him. "After everything you've done to me, you really expect to just come back up here and sweep me off my feet?" I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "That may have worked well for you before, but I can assure you than it's not going to happen again."

He stared at me, almost incredulously. "I thought you'd be happy. I didn't come back until my divorce was finalized because I knew that if I came back then I'd never be able to leave. But now I don't have to leave, I can stay here with you and the kids and never go back to Boston again."

"No," I shook my head. "Not this time, Emmett."

"But I—"

"No. You can't just keep coming back into my life and expect to be a part of it. My heart is not a window that you can just climb in whenever it's convenient for you and right back out when it's not. I gotta close it or nothing is ever going to be any different."

"I want it to be different," he said, stepping closer to me and pulling his hands out of his pockets. I suddenly became very aware of the bucket of soapy water in my hands. "I want it to be like what we talked about before. I want to be with you and the kids. I can get a job up here and we can find a house and everything. I want to be there for you, I want to marry you!" he said before he started fumbling around in his left pocket. "Here," he said as he pulled out a little black box. "I brought this for you. I bought it in December and I was planning on giving it to you for Christmas. Please, Rose, please, believe me." He said as he came closer to me and handed the little box to me.

I stared at it, putting the bucket down and I hesitated before I finally opened it. When I did, I gasped and drew my other hand to my lips. It was a Tiffany's platinum engagement ring with a huge diamond the size of my little fingernail and a bunch of much smaller ones lining the band. It must have cost him a couple months' salary. I tilted it this way and that so that it caught the light at just the right angle so it reflected every color of the rainbow in tiny fragments. And my heart longed for him to place it on my finger. But I tore my eyes away from the ring and the promise that it held and I snapped the lid shut, handing it back to him.

"I'm sorry, Emmett," I said as I handed back the ring that I had always dreamed of him giving to me. "But I can't marry you."

He took the ring back and bowed his head, nodding gloomily. "Alright," he said. More cooing came from inside the door and he looked back up, towards the door this time. "Can I… uh…"

I nodded, turning around and going to the door, opening it and holding it open for him. He followed me inside and I led him over to the play pin where Hannah and Gregory were laying peacefully. Gregory was asleep on his back and Hannah lay on her side, both arms flung outward and her feet tangled in the pastel patchwork quilt I'd placed at the bottom of the pin. She had soft curls the color of honey, her eyelashes a shade lighter, and her cheeks were as plump and bright as peaches, a pink pacifier in her mouth. As Emmett studied her, she rolled onto her back and looked up at him. Then turned to me and hung up her arms to be picked up.

"There's my girl," I smiled down at her as I reached into the pin and lifted her out of it. "Hey, sugar. Someone's here to see you," I said just as she turned to look again at the strange man standing beside her mother.

Emmett stared at the baby girl. She was dressed in something that was pink and orange and her backside was puffy. One of her socks had slipped down to reveal the heel of a tiny foot, which I tugged back up as she situated herself comfortably against my chest.

"Look who's here, Hannah banana," I smiled.

"Hi, Hannah," Emmett said quietly to the infant.

Hannah remained as unblinking as a fascinated cat, until I bounced her a couple of times on my arm and rested her face against her downy hair. "It's your daddy, honey."

Mesmerized, Emmett reached and took the little girl, lifting her to eye level where she hung in the air and stared at the top button on his shirt, then at his nose, then his eyebrows, and so on.

"My goodness, you're just a tiny little thing, aren't you?" he said adoringly to the child. I smiled and then turned to Gregory.

"Gregory," I crooned softly. "Hey, sleepyhead, it's time to wake up now. Someone came all the way from Boston to see you,"

Gregory flinched, brought his thumb to his mouth and began sucking but he did not wake up.

"You don't have to wake him up, Rose," Emmett whispered, content to stand and watch him.

"It's alright. He's been napping for two hours already," I stroked my son's soft curls and cooed. "Gre-eeeegory…"

He opened his eyes, shut them again and rubbed his nose with one fist.

Side by side, Emmett and I watched him wake up, making faces, rolling up like an armadillo, and finally coming up on all fours like a shaky bear cub and planting himself down on his bottom before finally looking up at me and Emmett.

"There he is," I smiled, reaching into the pin to lift him out of it and perching him on my arm. He was dressed in a blue shirt with a red sailboat on the front and red shorts. I had dressed them in their summer clothes because it was so warm outside. I introduced him to Emmett in much the same way I had done with Hannah, and pretty soon, he was holding both of them, one on each arm, and talking to them.

He brought Hannah close and touched his dark face to her very fair one, and caught the infant scent of her powdered skin and soft clothing. He smiled and rested his lips upon her silky hair and his eyes closed. My throat seemed to close with his eyes as I watched him with them.

"They're perfect," he said. But as if to prove otherwise, Hannah chose that moment to complain, pushing herself away from Emmett and reaching for me. He handed her over but hovered close as I took her upstairs to change her diaper. Then I changed Gregory's and then went back downstairs. After that, he helped me feed them and he stayed a while to play with them and before I knew it, it was two o'clock.

"I think you'd better leave now," I told him. He looked up at me, surprised. But before he could argue, I added. "Mother will be home soon with Catherine."

"Can't I see Catherine?"

"Not today." I shook my head as I carried the twins one by one back to the play pin. "She doesn't remember much about you except that you left, I need to make sure that she's comfortable with seeing you again before I just throw you at her after school."

He hung his head and nodded. "I understand. I really am sorry, Rosalie. I didn't want to leave her, or you, or the twins. But I promise, I'll never do it again. Ever."

I nodded stiffly and folded my arms over my chest and I led him to the door and I stepped outside with him. "Also, I would appreciate it if you would call ahead of time before just showing up like this," I said.

He nodded. "Alright. I'm sorry, I just… I had to see 'em…" he said.

"I know that. And I understand. Just please don't do it again."

He nodded and said, "I won't."

I watched him turn around and head back up to his truck, his head down. I thought he looked like a whipped dog, walking back with his tail between his legs and his ears down. But I refused to feel bad about it. I turned back toward the house and went inside, closing the door behind me. I listened as he started the engine and I rushed back to the window and watched him drive down the street until he was out of sight.

**Author's Note: Okay, it may be a little while before the next update because I'm having a little writer's block. In the original storyline, this was the chapter where they reconciled and got back together and the next chapter would have been the wedding, but since so many people are still so unhappy with Emmett, I'm going to have to draw it out some more. So bear with me. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated! Review!**


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